Songbird
by casuallllfollower
Summary: A world class singer married to her art and a masked man whose art is his life. Will they come together, or will career and art get in the way of love?
1. Chapter 1

The feeling of the stage was something Christine Daae was very used to at that point in her career. Her heart was beating through her chest as the climax of each song came, the crescendos flowing into her finale which brought the crowd to its feet. The white of her dress, though thick in layers, kept her cool and steady on the performance wood, and the thick silver band on her hand warmed with the burning of candles and heat of a full theater of bodies. There was no shortage of fans at her performances in her hometown, yet Raoul always argued there weren't ever shortages anywhere for her concerts. The people rose, gloved hands exuding applause, and she smiled, cheeks red with delight. Oh, how she never tired of the roses and smiles on the people's faces. Slow and steady, her bow came, and happily the curtains took her place.

"You did wonderfully, Christine, as usual when we're here."

The Swedish countryside she called home always made her heart tingle and her vibrato extend magnificently. It was pure bliss.

"Thank you, Raoul. Who are the patrons tonight?"

They began to walk to her room as the stage quieted, and the roar of the crowd dissipated. They were leaving all a chatter about the performance.

"There are none but myself tonight."

Christine glanced sparingly at him, worried as she twisted the ring on her finger.

"You are but my manager, you cannot sponsor me."

"Tonight, Mademoiselle, you are home and I wanted you to enjoy it," he lavished, looking worried, concerned, and a plethora of other things that betrayed his affection for her.

She returned not his feelings, and Christine wouldn't ever change her mind on that fact. Her relationship with Raoul was business, his managerial skills wonderful, and his original patronship what got her the decadent career she enjoyed that day. Of course she'd known, and even been told by the man himself, that he harbored more than faith in her career, but it never impressed her or found her falling. In fact, she agreed to never court or marry, her singing her only career, as the thick, metal band about her wedding finger reminded her every moment.

"Raoul," she moaned, feeling redundant, "I've told you before-"

"I am not attempting to court you, Christine, I only want you to enjoy your time home. I am always vacant when in France," he explained, opening her dressing room door.

They were always temporary arrangements, never staying in one for more than a week's worth of performances, yet this one in Sweden, where the people knew her by Christine rather than Miss Daae, was one that felt more permanent, more home-like. Enjoying home would be a treat, and regardless of what the young man said, she didn't trust his friendly intentions. His offer, however, of the intimacy of home, compelled Christine into agreement.

"If you insist."

"I do," he spoke to her as she passed him, his eyes on her back and her every thought hoping he didn't get the wrong idea.

"May I change?" She hadn't the heart to face him, lest he be wearing the look of a hopeful fool.

"Take your time, Christine, I must get my hat," he told her, then the door clicked shut and her breathing returned.

Poor Raoul.

With now ample time to do what she would, Christine sat down, looking into the mirror of a familiar dressing room. Her features had changed since she'd first set foot in Sweden, but that was to be expected, for she was born there! A smile escaped when she thought curiously back to her father and mother, both of which had nourished her singing until they called in professionals to coach her talents. Christine figured she wouldn't be half as talented now if it were not for those expensive lesson she endured.

The pins fell out of her hair once tugged on by nimble fingers, and her excitement showed for a meal when her stomach voiced its hunger. Getting ready was an easy task, but preparing for the solo meal was not. Despite everything, she worried still that Raoul would take advantage of the situation… and the worry stuck. She startled when the door received a knock, and his voice wondered of her readiness.

"Coming!"

Deciding her fan was not worth the trouble, Christine opened the door and smiled politely, forgetting his eyes were looking more upset lately. She was to enjoy this!

The Swedish air was warm on her skin, though the night sky and ocean breeze made every humid inch of it pleasant. Her heart felt rested and simply right as they walked, her hand holding Raoul's elbow in grace. Silently, they went on, happened upon their restaurant, and were seated.

"Do you think we could come during winter one year?" She wondered as they glanced over menus.

"What for?" Raoul wondered at her, his focus completely upon his order, "Travel is a beast."

"I miss the snow, you always have me in Southern Italy or Greece when it comes."

"The cool air is bad for your voice, you know that," he offhandedly replied.

The menu couldn't keep her attention for long, as she acquired the same tastes as always when she was home. Blue eyes fell to watching the people around the small eatery, all chatting happily, most smiling, even a couple holding hands as they shared a dessert. Christine felt sick at the thought, her work far too important. Of course she understood why Raoul wouldn't let her come to the cold and harsh winters of Sweden to perform, but still, she ached for the taste of fresh air.

The corners of the restaurant were dark, and as candles flickered about, she caught the eyes of some of the patrons who would then lean and whisper of her. She blushed, what else could Christine do? Her fame was never something she gave into unless at home, when people would think far too highly of her status, expecting her to have changed. No, Christine Daae was still the same girl who sang to her father's violin in the streets. It wasn't her fault those Italian Opera managers happened upon her as her father was sick and offered her training. She didn't want her father to take sick just as she was to deny, to say she wouldn't leave if they still lived. Christine never imagined Gustave Daae would leave her presence, a life no longer viable in Sweden. She would have laughed if one told her they would have trained her for months, and she would take over the pedestal of Prima Donna, then be worthy enough of her own performances, concerts, and ceremonies. She was hired, loved, and Christine found herself with a career and betrothal to her work. What else was a girl to do?

Christine thanked the waiter as Raoul went to chatting about her next stop before her last performance tomorrow, somewhere in London. It was a nasty city, but she was not focused on it then. The glistening in one of the dark corners caught her eyes, like a moth to flame.

Curiosity would kill her one day, she was sure, but was that a mask on that man's face? Considering the daylight had gone, and candles only let her vision so far, Christine was sure she was seeing things. Her heart hammered in fear, but when the candle flicked again, brightening with some indescribable ferocity, she was corrected. The man wore only half a mask, his eyes darkened in their holes, but his chin and lips were completely visible. Startled by him, she gasped, but Raoul only stepped over it with a lilt and kept talking at her.

How he didn't realize her focus had shifted wasn't her main priority to discover. This mysterious man in a white mask was rival to any curiosity she'd ever explored. What she could catch in the dying of the candle was no more than glimpses of his hard features, though that could be attributed to the covering he wore. His suit, from what she gathered, was remarkably clean, and his stature only proved such. Christine felt jolted, as if her chair had been swept from beneath her, and she couldn't explain why, but it wasn't going away, even with her focus suddenly plastered to her companion.

Their food came, and their drinks were refilled, but Christine felt that none of it happened at all. She was startled such a man existed, and when he left? It was the defining moment of her being recognized because it was of contempt more than any other emotion one could muster up from the human arsenal of emotions. This masked-man looked right through her as if she'd never even come up in conversation around him. She felt almost offended that he wasn't even the slightest bit impressed, then she realized how terribly conceded she sounded to herself and looked back to Raoul.

She failed to realize the well-dressed man had had a companion of dark skin and obvious standing, but Raoul had started speaking again, so she couldn't focus on him much. What she caught of the masked-man's conversing was certainly not Swedish, nor English, nor French, the few languages she actually spoke. Raoul spoke quite the few more, yet Christine was not going to give away the fact that she had hardly listened to a word the man had said.

Later in the evening, when she'd returned to the hotel they were staying in, her heart beating quickly, haunted by the man, Christine had the odd feeling she was to be haunted by him, and it didn't go away until sleep took her fully.

* * *

_My Dear Friend, _

_As I am sure you know by now, I have spent an entire year looking through every talent for you, coming home scarcely to those I enjoy, but I think my return is imminent! I stumbled upon a fine young singer in Denmark just recently, and I will be following her to Sweden! The soprano is of an unearthly quality, and I implore you head over at once! She has but a few performances in her home country, and performs not in the United States! Fresh talent, and quite the beauty, I think you shall enjoy it! _

_Hopeful, _

_Nadir Khan _

The pull of this invitation was what had Erik Destler on a rocking boat, the sway sickening to his usually steady digestive system. The rush of the waves would be over soon, though, when he would disembark and meet Nadir for this performance. He had secured tickets to the Swedish Soprano's second to final performance, and it was with care he'd decided to come. The boat-ride had admittedly been a turn-off, but Erik braved the seas in hopes his friend had not failed him. Luckily, rumor and favors found him his information significantly fast when he'd asked for it, and learn of this soprano he did.

The masked-man was no fool, his tall and thin stature an intimidation at the best of times, if nightmare wasn't applicable, he stood out among the rest and was able to have favors owed to him. Christine Daae was sure to be the one Nadir spoke of, the insufferable Persian his outlet to the rest of the world that didn't very much enjoy him. Regardless, Erik packed his bags and decided for himself to see if the talent was worth convincing to have come to the states. If she'd allow, anyways. He'd been searching for fresh talent for years, and with the pictures he'd acquired, Nadir was true to her beauty. Still, only he knew true talent, and only true talent could be hired by him.

When the ship finally docked, Erik was the first off when the crowds had cleared, and he found Nadir almost instantaneously. His dark skin, and uncommon dress, made him an easy target in the sea of pale dresses, and paper-white skin.

"Old man, you finally came through," he muttered, avoiding eye-contact from the forced stares of the Swedes.

Erik Destler felt mildly attacked by the Swedish, and it seemed his English was recognizable, so he switched immediately to Nadir's native tongue.

"Did you find what I was looking for?"

"I did," the foreigner replied, his eyes not amused as Erik felt.

"I hope so, the ride here was atrocious. Christine Daae better be worth my leaving the concert hall," Erik hissed, his form tense as they rushed towards the hotel Nadir had secured.

"How-" the elder stuttered, seeming surprised until yellow eyes fixated, and there was no more question in the ways of the entrepreneur.

"Nadir, I thought you knew I had my ways by now? Have you spoken to this de Chagny, her manager? I want a private meeting with her, and I will settle for nothing less. My sway here is little, but I want things to be set up for if this goes well."

Nodding, his companion followed Erik flawlessly, as height was of almost no difference, and they were in their lodgings soon enough, the comfort of solidarity now Erik's friend. He felt more than safe in the darkness, like how a child felt in the arms of their parents. He assumed that, anyways, as the darkness really was what had raised Erik.

"We must eat, you stubborn artist."

"I'm a musician, don't clump me in the same category with all those insane bastards who think several dots on a canvas is art," he growled in response to Nadir.

"Just come on, Erik, I have reservations for a dark table in the corner."

The allure of Swedish delicacies and the privacy of a secluded corner -sadly occupied by Nadir and himself alone- made him tighten his cravat and head towards the door.

"Finally", his companion rolled his eyes, immediately walking as if there hadn't been a delay, "I feel like you don't want to hear her at all."

"I might already have. She could be like all the others," Erik admonished, his tone sharp and succinct.

They walked not far, and were seated immediately, a sudden rush seeking to come in after the clock had struck quarter after nine. Nadir explained how there had been the young singer's performance that evening, and everyone was probably spreading around for a solid meal. Erik had to unfortunately admit that all the things he was hearing of her were positive, praises befalling the soprano like drops of rain during a storm.

The restaurant paid no attention to him, and he was thankful for that fact. As much as it pained Erik to admit, his friend never failed to keep him at least moderately comfortable. His presence was prickly though, so it depended on the day.

"Well, I don't believe my eyes, that's her!"

Nadir seemed thoroughly impressed, but Erik had to turn his head in the candlelight to the point where he was sure his mask would be caught. He took the risk to see the soprano, however, and was not disappointed. She wore a dress fit for queens, accompanied by a male who she looked not interested in. Her eyes wandered, and as they finally found his corner, Erik shied away. There was no way his depressed eyes and darkened persona would allow her to see him more than she already had.

Her frightened eyes and whitened cheeks made the masked-man huff, and turn back to Nadir who just picked at the last of his food. Their meal had passed quickly, and with prompt service, Erik and he stood to leave the premise. Fear. Of course the soprano would fear him, but that meant only good things for him, as his sway would get her to perform, assuming all went well tomorrow.

Tomorrow, that was the tell, and with a scrutinizing look to the brunette, he straightened an already pin-straight posture and sauntered from the small Swedish building, the warm air assaulting him in the night and giving way to their evening in.


	2. Chapter 2

There was no telling how they'd sold out the entire theatre yet again, but Christine was not to complain. It only meant she made more profit to donate, and Raoul would not be as pushy as usual. There wasn't usually a problem selling out, yet there was always the worry people would bore of her. _Christine _had this worry, not her manager. It stuck in the recesses of her mind, and she let it fight her for the good thoughts of applause and love of her fans and colleagues. They wanted her to stay and always perform there in Sweden, yet she knew people wouldn't make the trip singularly to see her.

Staying would be nice, yet it wasn't foreseen in her cards, so she went about her days and would finish out her Swedish visit boldly. It stung to leave, but Christine knew that her time would come to vacate the wonderful land.

Luckily enough that nights performance was not the last there, and she always had much more performing to soon keep her occupied.

"Christine?"

Sitting before her vanity, Christine turned. Her hair wasn't entirely up yet, and her face hadn't been touched at all. She wore her performance dress, but that was all the readiness that had occurred.

"Yes, Raoul?" She answered him kindly, feeling a bit insecure at his look of discomfort. Christine hadn't ever seen him in a state as such.

"We have a patron who wishes to hire you for an _American _performance. He wants an audience once you've completed this evening's concert," he told her gulping, the door handle tight under his white-knuckled grip.

"America?"

Christine had heard bad things about the country, and yet she'd heard the rumors as well. Streets paved with gold and the likes of an upcoming industrial feat. Brushing elbows with all of Europe's upper class had that effect on her social circle to hear and be in the know. Of course, America wasn't as great as the poor made it out to be, yet she knew that some were doing very well there. This didn't extend to her thoughts on performances there, as she was mortified of the long travel and how the men would see her. Americans were brash and brazen, and Christine was a woman dedicated to nothing but her art.

"Yes, he was very persistent Christine, I think you should allow him audience."

Raoul was swayed, she could tell, but it had to be the eagerness of the consumer that his eyes were focused on. Christine only wanted the respect of her art and the benefit others took from her hard work. Regardless of the lump-some that probably came with eager men, she wanted to keep her pride and ignore this large journey to an unknown land.

"Raoul, I don't think I have a want to," she told him truthfully, watching his face fall as he entered the room, shutting the door gently.

"At least see him, he got me here, yes? You know that I am intimate with all of your preferences, but I think this will pay off in the long run, Christine," Raoul implored.

She felt warm under his gaze, blue eyes latched onto her own.

"Fine," she agreed begrudgingly, "If you insist Raoul, I will see him this evening."

He grinned, looking triumphant, worried look gone and completely forgotten when he kissed her forehead and swiftly left the room.

Christine felt curious into this American stranger who deemed it appropriate to seek her out as a hire. It felt odd, as he must have known of her exclusiveness to Europe. She'd never traveled too far from home, and the thought of traversing an ocean made her nervous. Never before had she sailed such a long journey, but it couldn't have been too awful considering the amount of people doing it. Still… Christine wondered if it was worth it.

"An hour awaits, Miss Daae," muttered a worker from her dressing room door.

"Thank you," she called back, her familiar tongue and comfortable country easing the foreign offer.

America was not her forte, nor would it ever be.

She made her decision then, as a few dressers came in to complete the rest of her outfit. She adorned gloves, and her hair was tightened about her head, the rush of singing, an anticipation Christine then divulged in.

"All set, Miss Daae," one of the girls reported as Christine smiled, giddy.

Her emotions were well ranged, but with a decision on the American offer, she felt confident about her European engagements and wouldn't differ. Christine lifted her skirts, and took the path down towards the theater, which felt much like her own, and breathed deep, ready.

The crowd was roaring in the seats, and as the clock struck eight in the grand theater, the patrons were hushed. Such a juxtaposition thrilled Christine, knowing they were attentive only for her. Their ears and eyes were _hers _for the next hour. Raoul went out center stage from the other side, his eyes connecting with hers before he turned forward. She felt pity for him sometimes, seeing all the feelings in those eyes, his hurt evident. Sometimes he played well, and he'd even hold a partner for a while, yet it never lasted like she hoped they would… hoping they would pull his attention. Maybe the well-spoken manager would even marry, settle and she'd find someone else to travel with her.

Her hopes were null when her name was called, and Raoul's arm swept towards her, awaiting the soprano.

She sighed, smiling for the crowd and for her music, still pitying Raoul.

Looking out at the audience, she grinned, waving, the heat of lights comforting her on that stage she so adored. Christine swept her eyes over everyone, awaiting the conductor to take her cue.

The music started, but something caught her eye and nearly made her miss the entrance.

Someone familiar was in the crowd, and in a see of people, the theater seating an innumerable amount of guests, Christine was surprised at herself that she recognized anyone at all. The face was unmistakable. Christine sang, and tried to engage the entire crowd, but her browns fell right back to the familiar face. It was the masked-man from the restaurant, which she swore she'd see again. He was wearing an even nicer suit than before, if it was possible, and his companion still joined him. A notebook rested in his lap, a fountain pen dangling in his long fingers. Was he a critic? Christine hated critics, and so did Raoul, but they'd come to be familiar with all of them. Was he new? She could see all this detail because he was front row, house left, and somehow shrouded in the darkest corner the theater had, just like his spot in the restaurant. The stranger still wore a mask, and Christine shuddered to think what he was doing in Sweden. Would he befall her career with insane lies? Would he enjoy her music?

Christine had to focus, she could feel her chest fall, her shoulders rise, what form was this? She scorned herself, the rest of her performance needing more attention. Christine felt dirty to have even slipped for a single moment, let alone the prospect she probably put on for the half-masked man. For heaven's sake did she wish there was a name to that face. The dark-skinned man next to his companion was happily enjoying the show, and finally Christine was able to look away.

He seemed to haunt her, and it felt as though he never took his eyes from her, despite the fact she could see him scribble away every so often. Despite his oddness, she disciplined her eyes and ignored Raoul's curiosities, informing her that the man who wanted her in America would knock on her dressing room door. She declined to tell him the patron would be disappointed, shocked still by the masked-man's presence.

* * *

Erik Destler looked at the note in his hands and wondered how on Earth it had gotten to him in such a timely manner. He detested that this woman had to keep in contact with him like this, yet she must have sent it the day after he left.

His romantic partner, a well-known daughter of a well-known businessman, was slightly, if not just plain overly, attached to him. They'd only began to see one-another when her father dragged her to his theater, and she'd fallen for him… just not the ambiance.

Erik never felt slighted by it, but it did annoy him to no end that she took his abnormalities, as she put it, but not his music to her heart. She enjoyed only plays, so the musics he presented and held just seemed to bore her. He often put on dark operas, and recluse singers upon his famous stage in America, but it was fact that Juliet cared not for it. The young woman merely enjoyed Erik, and that was obviously alright by him.

"Does your lovely mistress miss you, Erik?"

Erik rolled his eyes at Nadir, who never hid his distaste for Juliet. It was probably beneficial that she cared not for the Persian either.

"Unfortunately. I don't know how she gets these things to me when I travel. It's like her father is stalking me or who knows," he protested, the letter crumpling in his clenched hands.

"Frustrating. I could care less about Miss Franele, are you anticipating Miss Daae's performance?" Nadir pulled the wrinkled parchment from Erik's hands who merely huffed at it, knowing a reply would be a waste of his time.

The hotel was holding them for four days and Erik, hating to travel on a Sunday, would be leaving Monday at the earliest convenience of the Swedish port. He hoped it would be with a signed contract from a talented singer, but she'd yet to show her talents to him.

The performance was soon, and he thought on Nadir's question.

"I always enjoy a well-performed concert, old friend."

"You _are _excited, then?" Nadir asked with far too much pride. He must truly have faith in the Daae girl.

"Yes," Erik hissed, looking at the man perched in his chair. "Come on, I don't want to be late."

They arrived soon to the theater, being housed close to it had many advantages so they could arrive in time to slip in just before the concert commenced. As much as Nadir had pestered him about the excitement that truly ran through him, he couldn't help but it feel it come on stronger when the lights faded and the soprano made her appearance. She was unlike anything he'd ever seen, and though her looks had passed him before, the surprise of her under the pressure of six-thousand eyes was impressive. Still, looks did not mean that her voice matched them.

When she approached the front of the stage, the crowd erupted, and the girl waved, looking more than comfortable in what he was told is a comfortable environment for the Swedish soprano. She looked thrilled to be there, and Erik could imagine so. He had the same homely feel whenever he was back in Paris, despite all the awful things that had happened there.

He watched Miss Daae ready herself, mentally awaiting her cue to come into her first song. It was impressive, her stance and her readying breath… but her voice was not impressive. The noise that came from the soprano was magic. Erik hadn't ever believed in a divine being in his life, no God, no Allah, no one, but if it gave reason as to why Christine Daae sounded the way she did then he would happily sacrifice his life to them. His ears would remain his own however, for he needed them to listen to the graceful sound that fell from her lips. Nadir had served Erik more than well, but he'd be pressed to tell him that ever… or express it upon his face.

He didn't change his features, not caring to betray they way he felt for her gift. Christine Daae would be his, even if he wasn't quite sure how to do that yet. She would be his _singer_, anyways, Juliet would have no want for another woman in his life.

As he began to focus away from the seraphic soprano, Erik heard her posture suddenly fall, and her voice change with it. He looked at her clearly and realized unfortunately that she'd recognized him. Attempting to remain stoic, Erik forced himself to keep his eyes from locking with hers. She seemed mortified when realization of poor technique hit her.

Everything after her slip up was perfect, and he was graceful enough to pretend she hadn't done what she obviously felt remorse for.

"You know," Nadir spoke promptly when the performance was through, "I have a meeting set up with her manager and herself."

Glancing over at the annoying Persian, Erik felt his blood boil from the ceased performance, yet Nadir seemed to have known that her voice would have thoroughly impressed him.

"When?"

"About an hour before the show," he remarked snidely. "Do you want her to perform or not?"

"Incessant Persian, take me."

Nadir didn't seem pleased at the upset demeanor Erik had taken, but he'd have to deal with it since Christine Daae would be their turning point. Erik had found a diamond in a world full of dull stones.


	3. Chapter 3

Christine felt nervous to meet the man who so vehemently seemed to want her presence in America. She was sure the offer would be high and probably offensive, but she would see him nonetheless to tell him of her decline.

Besides the fact she felt mildly bad for the American, her hands trembled at the thoughts of the masked-man in the crowd. He'd looked at her so awfully in the restaurant that she couldn't fathom why he was there to see her perform. The man acted as though she was just another stranger staring at the oddity that he was. While it wasn't entirely wrong of him, considering they were very much strangers, Christine couldn't help but wonder about the man's motives.

The mask, the strange looks, the stoicism he gave. It was impressive to her how such an enigma like him existed. She wanted to know him, and yet the idea seemed so very dangerous. _He_ seemed dangerous.

Raoul wouldn't approve anyways, as he wasn't a patron or anything like it. Who wore a mask in public? Criminals?

A knock to her door, followed by the voice of Raoul asking if he could come in with the soon to be disappointed patron came sooner than she would have liked.

Christine stood, straightened her appearance, put on a stoic face like that of the masked-man's, and spoke, "Come in!"

Raoul smiled at her as he pried her door open, looking very nervous and on guard. Christine wasn't sure what she was expecting then, but her heart certainly dropped when she found out.

The first of two men who walked in, she recognized, then the other followed and she would have happily fainted if it hadn't been for the first to shake her hand and place a kiss there.

Her American inquirer was also the masked-man she'd been seeing for an entire day now. He'd been in her dreams too, which didn't make the sight of him or his colored companion any better.

"Herr," she spoke to him in Swedish, despite English being the obvious choice for them to converse in. Seeing as they were from America and all.

The dark-skinned man laughed quite brightly, and he seemed nothing like the masked-man's stone mien.

"Pleasure, Miss Daae, I am Nadir Khan."

She was more than glad he ignored her folly, though when she looked at his partner, in the fine suit of black and a crisp grey, Christine was surprised to hear a Swedish greeting fall from his lips. It was perfect, no less.

"Where did you learn Swedish?" Her manners forgotten and all eyes on her poor choice of first-words to the masked-man whose name he'd said was Erik Destler.

"More like _when_, Miss Daae," Mr. Khan spoke, with a smile, still seeming much too kind to be associated with Mr. Destler, "He speaks over ten languages."

"Thank you, Nadir, but I'd like to get to business," Mr. Destler switched to English, apparently finding Swedish no longer useful seeing as his talent was removed.

"Business, yes," Raoul interjected, and Christine had to recall that he was even in the room at all.

"Wonderful, now Miss Daae," Mr. Destler took to taking over the room it seemed, his voice commanding and she certainly wasn't to obey. Her declining wasn't even a thought any longer, as this masked-man was offering her a chance to know him. Christine hardly knew what to think.

"Yes?" She chirped, feeling idiotic, offering him them all a chair with a silent gesture. Christine couldn't trust her throat or vocals to not spill everything inside her mind.

"I want you to perform exclusively in America for two months in my opera house. It is very prestigious and receives guests of all over the American continent, from all classes of people. You will perform five times a week give or take for health, Thursday through Sunday with a matinee on Saturdays. You will be paid accordingly above even the most expensive show you have booked. I've learned of your charity and decided I can spare seventy-five percent of your ticket funds to charities of your choice. Your personal payment you're allowed to do with as you please, obviously. You are not allowed to leave the city under any circumstances while you are under a two month contract-"

"That's ridiculous," Raoul interjected, though Christine had hardly been listening to the terms Erik Destler had been proposing. She was simply soaking in the blessing that was his voice. With a voice like his, he must have one singing voice. There wasn't any other possibility.

"It's reasonable," the man argued, "Not leaving the city is for her safety, Mr. Chagny, and I kindly ask that I not be interrupted. I will pay you one-hundred dollars-"

Raoul was never good at doing what he was told, "A hundred-dollars? Per week?" He seemed offended, and truly, Christine was as well. In American money, she was paid about eighty dollars for each show she did. "Your partner said you were far more interested in her than that earlier."

"Sir, if you please," the masked-man hissed, "It is one-hundred dollars per _show_."

The amount was baffling really, where did he obtain such an amount to pay her with? That would amount to more money than she ever thought she could make from one engagement. Christine looked to Nadir Khan to make sure this Destler wasn't just throwing his money around for no reason, but he was as sure as the masked-man himself was.

"I have never heard someone of your caliber before, Miss Daae. Your talent should not be confined to this small portion of the world. I would be honored to have your seraphic voice upon my stage."

Christine had sat down, but she felt as though she should be on her knees in thanks to him. Compliments had never boasted her opinion of herself so highly, yet for some reason what he was saying impacted her beyond any critic's thought. She pushed her chair back a little and faced both Americans.

"What will I be singing?"

The masked-man laughed, earning a stern look from his partner.

Raoul seemed threatened, as he placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, standing protectively over her.

"My own compositions, nothing else."

Christine furrowed her brow, watching his mismatched eyes look at the hand Raoul had placed upon her shoulder, "I perform for an hour, surely you can't have composed enough music to get me through two months."

Mr. Khan seemed to feel it his place to speak, "You don't know him, Miss Daae, you have enough music from him to perform for at least a year straight, every hour of every minute. The only problem is that he hates almost all of it enough that you'll only see the best of his absolute best work."

Christine felt honored and mortified all at once. Was he really that amazing of a composer?

"Your soprano is the only voice for my music, Miss Daae, I do not want another upon my stage."

Christine felt the urge from before her realization to say no to his offer. It scared her beyond wit that he felt only she could carry out his compositions properly.

"I'm booked out for quite a while," Christine told him, her breath shaking.

"Until next May," Raoul assured, "We can make available June and July assuming Christine here accepts."

"I want her _now_," Mr. Destler demanded, "You will be heading back with me to America Monday."

Christine's jaw dropped. How dare he demand that of her when she had prior engagements?

"Sir, I cannot fulfill that request, as I have said I am booked-"

"Then I will leave."

Christine felt backed into a corner as Raoul snickered behind her. She wanted nothing more than to get her hands on his music and to perform for him. His request was simply unreasonable.

"Then you shall be leaving, Monsieur."

"_Monsieur_, I want the _Mademoiselle_," his tongue switched into this accent Christine suddenly realized was obviously French, and she wondered why she hadn't realized he was a Frenchman before. "And I want her to decide for herself."

Christine thought hard about the pay she was getting in the future, and what a loss not working for him would be. There wouldn't be a way she could deny him, but it seemed the sensible thing to do.

* * *

Erik had spotted the wedding ring on Christine Daae's finger and couldn't help but wonder if he'd stumbled upon a misfortune in her addressing. All of her advertising was listed as Miss Daae, and so he didn't feel as though he'd slighted her.

He looked at her companion, who suddenly seemed more like a lover with the realization of the band, but he must have had money. Surely if she was married to the pompous man he would have afforded her a nice engagement ring at least. He was assured that they were not a couple when Chagny's left hand went upon her shoulder and it was bare. The way he looked at her, though, still gave Erik his suspicions. He couldn't call it a surprise if she was having an affair with her manager, were she married however. He was handsome, Erik could afford the man that compliment, but Raoul de Chagny… or Monsieur le Vicomte, as apparently he was titled, didn't get Erik's cordial treatment or respect to be addressed as such.

The affair Miss Daae was or wasn't having really wasn't any of his business, however, and Erik had his eyes on the thing he truly wanted: Her voice. It would be his, the instrument she carried with her everywhere and used to sway people as sirens did to catch their prey.

As their conversation continued, Erik could feel the denial emanating off of Christine Daae. He was asking her to break contracts and to possibly lose fealty from other theaters, yet what he could compose with that voice! There was no way she would allow him to fall from the high she'd put him on. Her voice was addictive, and he knew that the people needed to experience her. Soon.

Erik looked at Nadir fleetingly, as his worry was prominent. The man knew what was good for him, if he didn't get his way, he would not be a happy man and Nadir certainly never liked to deal with him when he was in a bad mood.

"It is up to you, Christine," de Chagny spoke worriedly, and Erik could understand his worry, but the esteem in America this young woman would obtain would carry her over to a whole new type of fame and glory.

Miss Daae's cheeks turned a shade of pink which made her blue eyes light up like dimmed lamps, and Erik felt his own heat when their eyes locked onto one-another.

She was a gorgeous woman, and borderline perfect performer, but all she needed to do now was submit.

"I'll do it."

The relief that fell from Nadir was nothing compared to the elation that Erik felt in anticipation for her to come with them and to be upon his stage, learning his music.

"I have your music for your first performance, which will give you three days to adjust to the city after our week-long travel. Will that be enough? I already have private quarters for us all arranged."

Erik could barely look at Miss Daae as Raoul's gaping caught him and took him off his stern keep. She had accepted, now he must. He could do that whenever he felt, though, Erik wasn't overly concerned about the Vicomte.

"Do you have a piano, I must have accompaniment," the soprano wondered, looking stressed already.

"Relax, Miss Daae," Nadir chimed in at his side, and Erik was quite thankful about it, "He comes prepared for everything. He is the best voice coach on the planet."

"She doesn't need a coach," Raoul stuttered.

"No, but my music is not simple, Monsieur, she will not be able to learn it all on her own, I can guarantee you that."

Erik felt the wonderful way his pride was winning out over the Vicomte's, and it couldn't have made him happier. What a wonderful week they would all spend together on a boat.

"So once you finish your show tomorrow evening, I want you to rest your voice all day Sunday and be ready to disembark the first sign of sunlight on Monday."

The soprano nodded, knocking off Raoul's hand from her shoulder as she stood unanimously with him and Nadir.

"Thank you Monsieur Destler, for this opportunity," she spoke, reaching out her hand for a handshake.

Erik gave in, reaching his gloved hand into her soft, un-ringed hand.

"Should I make arrangements for a third in your party?" He wondered curiously, purposefully looking at her thick, silver band.

Christine blushed, swiveling the jewelry and shaking her head.

"I am dedicated to my work, Mr. Destler, I have no taste for anything else besides it."

Erik smiled, and Juliet popped into his mind for a fleeting moment as he reveled in how Christine Daae was unoccupied by a suitor.

"Even better. Now, get rest and I look forward to seeing you at the docks Monday to begin our work."

Rejoicing in her smile of confidence, Erik took his leave from the rather populous theater, Nadir at his tails.

"So you got what you wanted out of Miss Daae?" Nadir pestered him, their walk far more brisk in air temperature than the evening before had been.

"I think I got more than I ever wanted. Her voice is gorgeous, and she's more than committed to her work."

"Ah yes, she is _married _to it. That's probably a very good thing in terms of Miss Franele. I do not think she or her father will appreciate you bringing an unmarried soprano across the sea for a week and then keeping her as a pet for two months."

Nadir didn't sound too happy, but Erik couldn't find it in him to care any less.

"I don't care what Juliet thinks, Miss Daae will earn us more fame than ever."

"How you will make profit off nothing baffles me," the business man said in reference to the charity deal he'd struck.

"We still obtain twenty-five percent, and we already over charge at twenty cents, I am not worried," Erik brushed it off, not truly worried at all seeing as their generous donors kept the theatre open anyways.

"You're so cocky, I wonder how you ever hate yourself."

They laughed, and while the jest had been true, it took nothing away from the wonderful feeling coursing through Erik in that moment… pure happiness.


	4. Chapter 4

The last thing Christine wanted was to be awake before the sun even rose. The sky was still dark as she laced her corset and pulled her skirt and buttoned her dress. Everything was in place when Raoul knocked upon her door, alerting her to their departure.

She'd never ridden across the Atlantic ocean before, and what was keeping her in Europe certainly wasn't fear of the water. Christine merely felt like the journey would be arduous and boring. No good things had come from the words of those who had travelled this distance, and she most of did not want to risk sickness.

Mr. Destler however gave her a profound sense of dignity and trust. He almost forced her to have faith in his actions, and this boat ride would be no different.

Raoul took her luggage, and his own, and they headed from her small, temporary flat, towards the coast of her beloved sea.

The smell of the water thrilled Christine, and she looked at the shores, just barely visible as the sun came from behind her to indicate the leaving she was doing. Regret ran through her, quite harshly, at leaving Europe. Something about it felt wrong, and she wanted to head back, engage further North to her previous bookings and pretend she never met Erik Destler. The feeling didn't go away for quite a portion of their walk, and the remorse was so bad that Christine even stopped momentarily.

Maybe she truly could not leave her beloved country…

Then she saw the masked-man, and her curiosity piqued again. He was still a mystery to her, and everything about him was just as elusive as his vast amount of knowledge. For heaven's sake he knew more than ten languages, and he composed! She would get her greedy vocals on those scores today, and it was one of the few things keeping her from bolting.

As they approached, Erik spoke first.

"We are already packed. Monsieur de Chagny you have a room with a common space attached to Nadir's, and Christine, you have the same with me. There is a private bath attached to each common. Now, work must get started, Nadir, take Chagny and his bags, I will take Miss Daae's, Monsieur."

Christine watched with fluidity how Mr. Destler ignored Raoul's sputtering and commanded his wills over them all. She hoped that he wouldn't be an awful teacher because it certainly would be a ruin of her career to perform for two months under someone she would come to hate. For a few moments, though, she happily indulged in Raoul's mouth being firmly shut in fear.

The masked-man led her to a well-lit cabin below what seemed to be the main deck, and handed her a metal key just before they reached the door.

"You are free to enter as you please and leave as you please, unless we are in lesson. Then you will be in our common at all times, so be prepared for that, yes?" He spoke firmly, his voice softer now that Raoul was out of earshot.

Christine smiled… so he wasn't a fan of her manager? It didn't make much of a difference seeing as they'd be apart most of the time, so she wouldn't bother him of it.

The man's mask, however, that would cause her quite a few botherings of her new roommate. Honestly, Christine felt quite scandalous having to share a room with that same man, despite it not being an actual, single room.

The cabin was warm, and the soft rock of the sea shifted about the curtains which hung from windows. How did he acquire such nice lodgings? The common room was equipped with a piano, and it was obvious to Christine that he had more money than she originally thought he did. Of course, with her pay, it wasn't that much of a surprise.

Her room was even more decadent, the lush bed filled to the brim with pillows and covers to content her beyond imagination. The shades of grey were enchanting, and Christine wanted nothing more than to throw herself upon the mattress. The only thing that signaled that they were on a ship was that everything was bolted down to the floor.

Christine watched as the Monsieur Destler placed her bags into her room, and then looked at her in curiosity.

"Do you like it?"

"I do…" Christine drifted off, feeling that this new intimacy between them called for more than proper names. She wanted to call him by his name, and to know everything about him. "May I call you Erik?"

The masked-man smiled, and with opportunity screaming at Christine, he agreed.

"Only if I may call you Christine, that is."

She nodded eagerly, feeling her curls bounce in retribution.

"I was promised a lesson," She said, however, wanting to get her hands on his work. Monsieur Khan could have possibly been bluffing of Erik's ability, but as she spent more time with him, doubt came of her doubts.

They walked over to the piano, the boat swaying after the solid blow of a horn, and Erik smiled at her in reassurance. She'd been on many boats, but this was her longest journey by far. It would be a scary first few nights, but Christine had a resolve to get through it and brave it if not only for the fact that every dollar was worth her discomfort.

It wasn't just for the money, not anymore. When her lithe hands had grasped upon sheets of his music, written in the most tidiest of script, she realized it was suddenly bringing this music to life which mattered most. The charities were a dear cause to her, but none of it would have happened if it weren't for the fact she adored music… she was married to her career after all.

"I've never seen such a piece before. I think I have the right to say I've been about the composers in Europe a time or two."

"I don't associate with my European heritage," Erik managed to say as he busied with chords on the piano, and tuning it. Christine had never seen a pianist tune their own piano before. It was almost… captivating, watching the way he moved around the instrument as if it were an extension of his own person. "So my compositions will be uniquely American, therefore they are… run-of-the-mill where I reside."

"I doubt that. I've had the sparse chance of an American or two, and still this is a challenge for even me to sing. Has anyone ever tried to sing these before me?" Christine felt mildly possessive over the music in her hands. Surely he never paid anyone else to sing in such a fashion? He'd said it was only for her voice, but he was negotiating then. And there had to be but few talents out there who could possibly fill the shoes of these bars and lyrics.

Stopping the work he was doing, the masked-man looked over at her carefully, almost as if some guard that had not been up before suddenly came into action.

"No other women, no." He looked very much as though he wanted to say more on the topic, but stopped himself before detail could be given.

Christine sighed, thumbing through the last few staffs as he sat back on the piano's bench, and straightening his suit.

"Shall we commence with a few small scales to warm your vocals and then proceed with technique? I have a feeling we won't spend too long on the trivial things of a lesson, and most will be spent learning your piece. I want you ready to perform when we arrive, that way your first three days there aren't so overwhelming. That will require you to practice, by yourself, on the boat. Is that amenable?" He asked, as though she had a chance to refuse. She was performing the Thursday after they arrived whether she liked it or not.

"Plenty."

"Splendid, now just the c-scale so I can hear your voice doing the basics."

Christine did as told, watching him to learn his cues, and realized with the mask on the right side of his face like it was, these were going to be a complicated set of lessons in the future.

* * *

Erik thought the lesson went far better than he had originally anticipated… and his hopes had already been high. Having the raw voice Christine possessed so close and so willing was an exhilarating experience to him, and he never excited over anything so vividly.

She had not faltered once, and the nervousness in her body, constricting her voice, had only lasted but minutes when she realized he was not going to be harsh. He knew that her fear was that sooner or later this too-good-to-be-true deal would completely fall to pieces, and she would be left a ruined star who had cancelled three months worth of bookings for nothing.

Erik wouldn't ever let this be the end for his new, prized, Prima Donna. She scorned the title when he gave it to her, saying it was too much and that she'd never felt like one.

Christine tackled his music with only slight trepidation, but nearly blanched when she'd made her first mistake. Christine was a darling thing and was terrified of ruining his work, he could tell. When he'd gently corrected her, promising that no one was perfect, even her, she eased into it and freely practiced as she might through over half of her songs. She would perform ten songs, and getting through nearly half of one of his works for only half a lesson? That meant good prospects.

Dinner was the next thing to tackle between the lot, and Erik was half-tempted to simply not eat at all. A week of no food was nothing, as long as he had a cup of coffee and possibly a single fruit, his stomach would be quelled.

Nadir might just sooner kill him, so he determined that a communal meal was probably more appropriate regardless of his feelings.

It was most unfortunate.

Erik's distaste for de Chagny laid plainly in his guardianship over Christine. That, and his obvious love for her. It was distracting for the girl, and all she wanted was to be married to her work and show off her talents to the world. This was a respectable want in Erik's mind, but at least the boy had allowed Christine with them to America. He wasn't sure what he would have done if the girl had refused… then again he had some ideas. Possibly up the offer, it wasn't as if he was pinching pennies in the first place. He'd raised ticket prices minimally to afford the seventy-five percent award to her foundations on ticket profits, but paying her was coming strictly from the savings he'd been holding over the years exactly for this purpose.

Still, he must first handle dinner before anything else went under-way.

"You can relax, Christine, I think we should head for our evening supper."

She looked thrilled, and Erik wondered if she'd been going hungry.

"What are we having? I can only imagine what meals upon a boat are like."

Skepticism, he could understand that, but surely by now her faith in him had grown? His promise of money was good, and his training and music were all to her liking. Must she continue to doubt?

"Only the finest quizine that the chef can prepare. Everything gathered fresh from the grounds of Sweden."

"That sounds wonderful," Christine said. Her voice was pure no matter what she seemed to be doing with it, and he had to calm himself in his thoughts.

The giddiness would wear off soon enough, seeing as dinner with de Chagny was imminent.

"I am pleased it is to your liking, I hope you haven't starved while I was coaching you?"

"No," she assured him quickly, "I don't eat much anyways. Nothing about my figure, I just don't have a large appetite."

"I have to say I understand completely, I've gone many a day using music as sustenance."

He earned a darling giggle, and with the blush on her cheeks complimenting her skin, Erik was reminded briefly of Juliet. He missed her warm arms and red cheeks. Her skin was far more olive than Christine's and the difference was truly noticeable so up close.

The piano creaked with the swaying of the waves, and Erik felt pity for the instrument and its need to be tuned almost every day due to the motion. Regardless, he left it and offered his arm to Christine who gladly took the guide.

"Will Raoul and Mr. Khan be joining us?"

"Yes, your pesky manager and my equally annoying companion shall dine with us this evening."

Another bout of laughter, and she asked, "So you truly don't care for my manager?"

"He's a boy who thinks he knows all."

"He is very knowledgeable," Christine said, and Erik wondered why she would defend him. Did she have feelings for him that she hid behind her marriage to her work? "He speaks many languages and was in the French Navy."

They walked through the thickening air, and Erik made sure she was walking steadily with the ship's movements.

"Do you care for him? Relations are but a distraction for the impressive work you do and should continue to do for the rest of your life."

"No, I've denied him so many times, and even if I was in the market for a relationship, he would never be my first choice. He is like my brother."

Strong motivations and convictions were a very good thing in Erik's eyes, and he hid his prideful smile as he let her up a set of metal stairs to the main deck before him. She lifted her skirts elegantly and gave him just enough time to let loose his smile, and when Christine turned back for his arm at the top, he was back to impassive.

"I've heard you don't have any family, is that true?"

A sad look took over the girl's face and he wished to take back the question.

"Yes, my father died a few years ago and my mother when I was born."

"I wish my mother had," Erik admitted without even thinking, to which he earned an aghast look and her fingers loosening from his arm.

Quickly, he placed gloved ones over Christine's to reassure her, "I apologize, she was merely someone I care to forget most days, she was quite the awful mother."

"That's terrible. When I was little I used to think everyone had someone like my Papa, but when he died I learned quickly as I traveled and became trained in vocals that that is not the case, nor will it ever be."

He was most pleased the conversation had twisted towards her person, but the sight of the dinner table was a tragic ending to their beginning intimacy as student and coach.

"Here is where we'll be having dinner, can we continue learning later?"

Christine smiled and nodded, and Erik decided that he would do everything to keep her happy and in his theatre for as long as she'd promised.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N - Your author here! I just wanted to let you all know that this is a short story. There are only 14 chapters with a small epilogue. I didn't want to catfish anyone in the length! I hope you're enjoying! _

* * *

It was a beautiful day when they arrived on shore, and Erik was very thankful for that. He would have felt positively dismal if he'd have arrived here with two foreigners to only have rain and heat as their greeters.

Early morning was upon them, so it was dark and people paid him little attention with his mask and dark-skinned friend. Nadir was the oddity here, and while he bemoaned his travels to Europe, he was far more accepted there than he ever was here. Still, he loved it and made Erik sick with his positive attitude.

"Welcome to New York, Miss Daae."

Christine was astonished, and he reveled in it. De Chagny seemed far less impressed, but still somewhat so, and Erik didn't really care as he offered an arm to his Prima Donna.

"It's beautiful here," she said quietly, her head swiveling in all directions to catch glimpses of their surroundings.

"I wouldn't go that far, while I loathe the memories Paris carries for me, I do think it is far more gorgeous than this city."

Christine only grinned.

They'd become very good companions over the week they traveled on the boat, and it was thrilling for him to have such a voice in his pocket. She had all of his songs memorized, and he was thoroughly impressed by how she handled him. It was as though they were made to partners in music, and she did not shy towards the art, in fact, the odder the song, the more Christine seemed to want to perform it and to bring it to life. Her embodiment of the sounds and rhythms was pure bliss for Erik.

Nadir was weary of their relations, which of course he must have picked up from the blasted Vicomte who seemed to constantly have his nose in their business. Manager or not, he had no place in their lessons and learned his own when he interrupted one day. Nadir had been out to the front docks to feel the wind, and Raoul had wanted to spectate the music, to which Christine also viewed what Erik's rage could be like. He yelled at the boy who scurried faster than a rat, but the strange part was that Christine seemed so complacent when he'd done it. As though she thought Raoul had truly deserved it, if that was the case, then Erik was very pleased.

Regardless, their trip had gone splendidly, and he was even more anticipatory than before.

So much so that the woman at the docks who rushed towards him had completely slipped his mind.

"Erik!" She exclaimed, and Christine was jostled from him as she hugged him aggressively.

"Juliet," he growled, and shot an apologizing glance to his Prima Donna.

"I missed you, darling." He'd barely wrapped his arms around her waist when she pulled back then placed her lips on his, dislodging his mask slightly.

Why was she being like this? He hated receptions, and she knew that these types of affections outside were not to his appreciation.

"Juliet," he said with a finality that got her off of him, "I would like you to meet some people. Most specifically my new Prima Donna at my theater. This is Miss Christine Daae."

He watched as the two women shook hands, and Christine did not hide that she forwent the kisses to the girl's cheek. She didn't seem to like the outward display of… well, of Juliet, to which Erik agreed brilliantly.

"Then her manager, the Vicomte de Chagny, and you know Nadir."

"Hello, Sir," she said, and he'd never been more thankful that Juliet didn't attempt to brutalize the French pronunciation. She was terrible at tongues, and even worse when it came to accents.

The Vicomte did not leave out the kisses, however. No, he placed one to each of her hands, and Erik felt the strong need to pull her back to him. She was very pretty, and the Vicomte could keep pining after Christine if it meant he left Juliet alone… then again he wasn't entirely sure what he wanted in this situation because neither option sounded favorable at all.

"Well then, Miss Daae, to the theater we go."

"Please," Christine agreed, her distaste for Juliet evident.

He understood, she was never the easiest person to get along with, and despite being a star, Christine was a shy soprano who liked her spotlight only to shine on the stage.

The carriage Juliet had brought rounded up and they all scuttled in, five people tight in the carriage, but they made it work as Nadir offered to sit out with the driver.

"We're going to showcase you today, Miss Daae. I have several writers who would love your interview for the papers, and I think that it will be good for the public to know you well before you perform. I will have tickets ready for purchase at the box office today, and they will be sold out within the next few days. I do not put out bad shows, and because of my popularity and your talent, it will not take long for both months to be booked."

Christine looked mildly overwhelmed, but he'd warned her a little of what she was getting into, so he didn't feel too bad for telling her now.

"Your dressing room is equipped with rooms of your own, and I will have someone at your beck and call shall you need anything. I'll show you around before we get you settled with the reporters."

Raoul, who was seated almost atop Christine had the very audacity to ask, "And where will I be staying?"

"With Nadir."

The Persian thought he was amenable, so there was no need to find other arrangements elsewhere… preferably in the West where nothing at all existed but barren land and water, though that was too much to ask, Erik thought.

"And where is that?"

"Two blocks from the theater, you may rest easy Vicomte, she won't be far. Besides, what managing will you be doing while she is performing and under my care?"

"Patrons, donations, meetings like the one we had before you carted us across the Atlantic!" Raoul flustered, and Erik squinted at him with curiosity at how one could be so brash?

"No, none of that. They will be silent donors or nothing at all. I shall have no one bothering her after shows. Performing my music straight is laborious and will require much of her rest and relaxation to be on point."

Christine seemed excited by that prospect, and he knew that for sure since this was something that they'd discussed in private.

"I wish I'd have known these things on the boat… or in Sweden," he hissed in French, but Erik only huffed, ignoring the petulant boy in favor of his partner.

"Will you attend her opening, darling?"

Juliet looked at him oddly, "Will I be attending alone?"

"Nadir can accompany you, or the Vicomte here, but I will be in the catwalks accompanying."

"Of course you are," she sighed, and Erik watched as she went to decline, but then caught the eyes of said performer in the same carriage as them and she smiled politely, "Anything for you."

"Wonderful," he said and kissed her lips, the privacy of the carriage a much better place for such intimacies.

The rest of the trip was silent, and when Nadir came and got Christine from the carriage, she was thrilled to finally be in the presence of his theatre.

Erik beamed with pride, but he attempted to quell the abstract feeling.

"This way so I can show you the stage, Miss Daae."

He motioned for Christine who took his arm giddily, and Juliet followed behind attached to Nadir, just as the Vicomte ran behind so as to stay with the group.

Erik cared little for the group as he showed his prized songbird her stage.

She gaped at the deep color of the wood and the black velvet of the seats. Christine did not care that the carpets were a luscious red, far darker than those of the ruby-red seats you usually found in theaters. She ran her fingers over the embellishments of the chairs and then right up through the wings to get to the stage. He didn't even have to tell her where to go, for it seemed his earlier descriptions (not bragging at all, he was far too confident for such a thing) had aided her to her rightful place.

Center stage and beaming, no one had ever been more beautiful to Erik.

"Imagine," he spoke lowly, and she startled when his voice sounded as though it were right next to her, "Both levels filled to the brim, boxes rented to their capacities, hundreds of hands clapping for your voice, and roses being thrown at your feet. The crowds cheer for an encore and the only way possible that they will get one is if they buy another ticket… then another. And the next thing you know your two months here is gone and you're back to Europe. But you won't forget this, Christine. I promise you."

Her eyes were glazed over and there was a serenity on the singer's face that Erik simply didn't want to ruin as he watched her slowly bring her eyes down to him.

"I wish I could stand here forever."

He felt the same way, and with a sigh, he walked over and offered her a hand to which she reached down and took. Christine sat on the edge of the stage, and Erik took her by the waist, her singer's body small and almost nothing to place back in the house.

If only she could be his Prima Donna forever…

* * *

Christine looked at Erik wildly, wondering how on Earth he'd gotten his voice to reach just her. The vacant looks on everyone else's faces had clued her in to the fact that his words to her had been private. It was a talent she knew not that he had.

Regardless, as she was taken from the stage her heart yearned to return to it, the beauty of it beyond anything she'd experienced before. If she'd loved her work before, doing it here in this theater was going to be… remarkable to say the bare minimum.

"Where is your catwalk piano that you were so illusive about?"

She was going to go crazy if he did not give her all the secrets of this place, for her curiosity would not be sated when he'd given her so much already.

"Above the stage and to the back just slightly, right there," he spoke gently, as though proud his perch.

Christine followed his guiding hand and looked up into the ceiling of the stage, feeling her lips spread in excitement. How was this place so wonderfully constructed? It was brilliant and every single piece of space seemed to have purpose.

"Who built this theater?"

"I did," Erik said, and while Christine was getting better at reading what little facial expressions he betrayed, she found the pride that came in his voice. Because as much as she saw no expression besides smiles or frowns, she very much could hear the sadness or anger in his words. Every turn of the tongue she knew now, and sharing quarters with a man allowed her to learn very much about him, this one in particular having many secrets she felt like she'd unfolded.

"I feel like I should be surprised, but from all I know about you, I can't be."

"Let's show you your rooms, and I think you'll discover that there's a lot to be surprised about me just waiting to be discovered."

Christine could only follow to his whim, not caring a wit what Raoul was doing, or the doting Monsieur Khan. Juliet was not a favorite of hers, something about the girl just… ground on Christine, as though something around the woman was poking at her.

She would have to tolerate her, though, as Christine could tell Erik adored her in his own way. He looked at her differently than she imagined lovers looked at one-another, but there was something there that Christine didn't ever want. It seemed like so much to handle, that type of physicality that was shared between them. She wouldn't mind Juliet, not if she was who Erik wanted to spend his free-time with. As much as they'd become friends, herself and Erik were more colleagues than friends, close quarters merely gave one that perception.

Her rooms were astounding. Black curtains and blush pink accents welcomed her, and the carpets were so soft, Christine thought she might sleep on the floors instead of her bed. Her dressing room was separated by one door that led to her actual bedroom. The whole thing was gorgeous. Of course it was more than she ever would have wanted, though Erik did not seem to care for any of it, saying if she needed anything to ring her bell and someone would be at her door as quickly as possible.

"We have the press soon."

Christine saw that her things had already been moved into her room, and she excused herself to change into something a little better for photo-taking. She put her hair up and came back out to Erik talking with a butler, she assumed, who was handing him a few new pieces of music.

"I'm ready for them," Christine said lightly to interrupt.

The masked-man looked up at her and provided a clipped smile, "I have these few pieces for you to choose from for next week. Only two, I don't want to overwhelm you by changing out too many of them at once."

It was very thoughtful of him, but he was paying her good money to do whatever he wanted for only five shows a week.

"I can change more if you'd like," she offered weakly, but he only shook his head and thanked the serving man kindly, saying he could go, then coming back to her.

"You don't have to do more than two new songs a week, Christine. I want you to enjoy the city as well as perform and work. I think that on days you perform you can leave the city, my rules before may have been a little harsh."

Christine only laughed, "I'm not going to leave the city, Erik, but I will gladly explore your home in hopes of finding the good parts of it."

"That eases my stress, Christine, now why don't we get you to the lobby where I have hungry piranhas waiting to get fried if they so dare as ask a question out of hand. You might want your Vicomte present for this," Erik said with a quip, and as much as Christine found their rivalry funny, she agreed.

Her manager was best for this job.

And so they went down and Christine answered a million questions and smiled her cheeks off for the people she'd be performing for over the next two months.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: As you can see I update very sporadically. At least I update. All the chapters are written, though, so if I don't update within a week just bug me a little and a chapter or two will show up. _

Christine hated American reporters, and apparently so did her voice coach. He was storming about the room having a tantrum as he held the papers out before him.

"At least your theater sold out."

"Yes, but this… gossip is all that sold."

One out of almost a dozen papers that interviewed Christine a few days prior had written a completely false article on how she was having an affair with him and that their jolted lovers were together now. It was hardly amusing, but when the article had come out that morning, all tickets had sold out, and the upcoming few were even racking in a line asking if people had returned their tickets!

She still hated the lies. There were no reasons to spread such a foul thing like that! Everyone else had played nice, why couldn't they?

Christine decided, much to Erik's surprise, that she didn't care and her show was far more important than any ridiculous fable the news decided to print.

"I doubt that you answering several of their questions by interrupting my modesty was of any help. You informed them of my talent, and I couldn't be anymore thankful that you're giving me this chance here in America. I didn't know I wanted it until you put forth the music and the motivation."

This calmed the rage, and Christine smiled happily at her ability to simmer his temper.

"I appreciate that, Miss Daae, you deserve the world for that voice of yours. It has been an honor training it these past several days. Are you ready for tomorrow?" Erik wondered, his hands in his pockets and leaned casually against the piano of their practice room.

"Of course I am. I do not think this much excitement has run through me since my first performance on stage. I was so nervous, but this is different… it is all the anticipation of the thrill I get when I sing for people. I'm happy to be doing it for those who have never seen me before, or possibly even heard of me!"

A look passed through the masked face, and Christine prayed that he would speak so she could discern something from his emotions.

"I look forward to your glorious premiere, my Prima Donna. And to think you were going to decline my offer?"

She narrowed her eyes and shook her head playfully, knowing everything had turned out just fine. There was no need to dwell, was there?

"Are you excited to hear me before the audience tonight?"

"Thrilled, really. I love to see the fruits of my labor come before me and blossom."

Christine giggled, feeling like a child who'd just been tickled. Oh, how well she got on with this man, it was so comforting to have this relationship with him. Their music had brought them together, but their love for it was what made it not just a passion-driven companionship, but mutual liking. She hardly even thought Raoul and her got on any better.

The only bad thing about the whole ordeal was Juliet. The lady continued to rub Christine wrong, and she hated to be in her presence. It didn't help they all had a dinner the next evening to celebrate her performance! What joy. Raoul, and the Messieurs Destler and Khan were plenty company without Mademoiselle Franele, but of course she was Erik's partner so she must indeed be included!

Despite her brash attitude, Christine should have been happy to have female company as the only way she got that was calling a server, and half the time a man came to her aid, so even that failed in its endeavor. Still, Christine would simply tolerate Juliet and pray that maybe one day Erik would decide he wanted someone more level-headed.

It was thoughts like those that also reminded her that she was only around for two months and displacing anyone here was just a bad idea. She would come and go, but the infrastructure here was forever, and Christine didn't want to ruin any chance Erik had at happiness.

"So, how did you gain your prowess here in New York?" She'd always been curious, but there hadn't been time for random questions like these which would elicit a long response.

"I came to America with a lot of money from a job that has haunted me for a long time. Because of my face… anyways, that part isn't important. When you come to a country with a lot of money, you either have to know people or get it taken from you. I didn't like either of those options, so I forged a path and came through at the top, plopping my theater down and drawing in crowds with sheer luck. Once word spread through the city I was thrust into the artworld, but I put Nadir as my face so that way I don't do much interacting. You'll hear often that I am his… protector of some sorts, or some say that I'm a ghost and I play in the rafters… you shouldn't believe everything in black and white, however, as we have learned today," Erik scoffed with the wave of a paper he'd picked up only to throw on the floor again.

Christine watched with amusement as he stomped on it, leaving his pristine shoe print in the words.

"So do you always accompany the acts?"

"Sometimes, depends on the singer. I will occasionally hold operas in which an orchestra is contracted which is significantly easier," Christine giggled at his pretend exhaustion, "Yet it mostly does depend on what is happening on my stage whether or not I incorporate myself."

"Do you sing?" She felt odd asking, for certainly she should have known this after almost two weeks with the masked-man? It was odd to think that she knew him so well, yet hardly at all.

"Yes, but I won't on stage for obvious reasons," he insinuated.

Christine looked at the mask but felt bad for doing so. Without even knowing anything about it she would have bet money that it was a sore point for him. It was a shame he hid his face though because he was a talented man with good attributes. Why shouldn't he be free to show his true face? What was he hiding?

"My apologies," she muttered, sitting down in a chair and slouching over the back of it, looking at him with a frown.

"What posture is that?" He motioned to her back and she shrugged, feeling so very at ease, but also tense. She shouldn't have pried.

"I feel awful for prying."

"Do not worry yourself over it, Christine. Everyone has secrets, this one is mine, and unfortunately, people give me so little a chance with it. I have learned to accept that no matter how good my music is, the world isn't ready for it to be _me _who wrote it," Erik said gently.

"Who takes your credit then?"

"No one, Nadir promotes our _anonymous composer_," he changed his tone and mocked the idea, so Christine knew what he meant.

"Do people perform your work often?"

"No," Erik said almost harshly, and he only softened slightly when he continued, "Only the best have performed my simpler works. But the likes of what I have given you... only one man has been qualified enough to do so, yet you are the only soprano that I have ever found alluring enough."

Christine reveled in the comment, "And am I the best there will ever be?"

This seemed to stop all of his movements, and Erik was frozen like marble, looking at her with almost as much expression as the cold stone. It had only been meant as a jest, but there was serious contemplation in his eyes.

"I was merely-" she defended but was cut off quickly.

"Yes," he said definitively, and Christine startled at his certainty.

"Erik, you can't mean that, I am sure someone better than me will come along one day."

"No," Erik assured her slowly, being very careful as he spoke, "I think you will be the best singer I have ever had on my stage."

Breathless, let alone capable of words, Christine stared at Erik and felt a deep wave of appreciation come over her. He was so enthralled by her voice, it made her happy to know that her life's dedication could make someone so utterly happy.

* * *

Erik left Christine to her day of rest before the show tomorrow evening, hoping for the best results. He knew Christine would be peerless, but would everyone else agree? Without wanting her to know he had doubts about the people, Erik simply decided that she would be no matter what. His faith in her abilities was unwavering, and he couldn't have chosen a better person to be upon his stage for this season. Well, technically he had only booked her for half the season, but he'd certainly be shutting down the theatre for a while once she was gone. He couldn't even try to let someone take her place the moment she left.

Besides, renting it out to another contractor for a couple months would get him back the profit he'd so tragically lost with inviting Christine Daae here. He'd been sensible in his request, but he had gone a bit out of the way in his convincing and some extra profits would be nice.

He traveled to his office, nearly giddy at the thought of Christine performing the next evening.

"Hello, darling," Juliet said as he walked through the door, and if he hadn't spent years doing what he'd done, then she would have startled him.

"Hello, how was your breakfast?" He walked up to her and placed a kiss on her lips, a firm hand on her back.

"Dull, father drags me to these things specifically because I hate them, I think."

"Mhm, well, tomorrow evening should be better, no?" He wondered, gently guiding her out of his way and sitting at his desk.

"Yes, of course. Christine is very good, from what I've heard," Juliet said, and if Erik hadn't been caught up in how wonderful Miss Daae did actually sound, he would have realized this woman here was not pleased with him.

"She's perfect," he spoke mindlessly, and earned a crude look from Juliet as she sat upon his desk with a huff.

"And once she's performed for the first time, will your attention come back to me?"

Looking up at the woman perched on an important document that ruffled a bit as she crossed her arms, Erik was confused. He paid plenty of attention to her, she was plenty fine.

"Juliet, you get almost all of my attention. Did you want Christine to flop on my stage? She's in a country she's never been in, and just traveled to an entirely new continent! I must make sure my performers are well taken care of."

"Right," she muttered, getting off Erik's desk with the land of her heels on the wood floors. "You know she doesn't like me?"

Now that did not take him off guard as he was sure Juliet had meant it to. She was trying to uproot the girl, but Erik had already paid her the first part of her wages, there was no going back now.

"What on Earth do you mean?" He played along, figuring he could at least appease her.

"Exactly what I said, darling, your little songbird hates me."

"I doubt that-" he attempted to soothe her, but she gave him a look which meant she was not finished.

"The girl gives me odd looks and does anything to get away from me. I don't see the problem! Father says I'm enchanting."

"You are," Erik appeased, tired of her attitude, but never of her. "Rest easy, she won't be here for long. I can only book a performer for half a season tops. And when she's gone, I plan on renting out the the theater for the rest of the season to make sure that all my attention goes where I want it."

This made the brunette smile and blush, and Erik felt very proud of himself.

"That Manager of Christine's is very handsome, has she snapped him up yet, or is he a free agent?"

"I don't like the sound of that," he growled, wondering what she was getting at.

"Relax, Erik, I was just wondering if he needed a woman. Anna loves to travel."

"Christine has sworn off any romantic relationships, which means the Vicomte is free as a bird. Ruddy man, if you like your friends, don't do that to them."

"Oh," Juliet said in a huff, "I _don't_ like Anna."

That sounded much more like his partner.

She walked around him and placed her hands on his shoulders, gently pushing into his aching muscles. He'd been at that piano for so long, and now the desk. It was amazing his arms didn't fall off right from their sockets.

"Am I interrupting something?" Nadir wondered from the doorway, a smirk on his face.

Another person who didn't like Juliet. He, however, hid it which Erik only knew because Juliet loved Nadir.

"No, I'll get going if it's business. I have to talk to Anna!"

"See you around, Miss Franele."

"Bye, Nadir!" She exclaimed as the lack of her hands left Erik's shoulders wanting for more attention.

Erik got a kiss to his exposed cheek and watched as she left the room, Nadir only rolling his eyes.

"Why do you keep her around?"

"I do enjoy her, despite your belief."

"Mhm, well, I just came to let you know another show sold out. We have started a cancellation line, Erik."

The proud man took a seat opposite his masked friend who smiled.

"You are exuberantly proud of yourself, aren't you, old man?" Erik teased his companion who only smiled broader.

"Why shouldn't I be? Miss Daae is a find and a half. Which reminds me, I think Romeo was on his way to her."

"I hardly care as long as he isn't chasing after _my _Juliet or interrupting Miss Daae's lessons."

Nadir shot Erik a look he didn't understand, then shrugged as though it didn't matter any longer.

"Good luck tomorrow, I hope you don't freeze. You've heard her sing a million times now, don't let the costumes and the audience take your wits from you."

"As if," Erik scoffed in response, and leaned back in his chair, praying for tomorrow to come that much faster.


	7. Chapter 7

Christine looked at herself in the mirror, and the immense blush on her cheeks. She smiled, brightly, wondering how she'd been lucky enough to be here. The show was to start soon, and she couldn't have been any more excited to go and perform for the American crowd. The entire theatre was sold out, every single seat occupied with a person who had come to hear her sing. Even if they had only come because of the drama the papers had printed, they were here, and she was _thrilled_.

Raoul stood next to her, looking anxious, but none of his anxiety could pierce her anticipation.

"Your worrying is obnoxious, Raoul."

"Funny, Christine. While I was in the lobby I had tons of those filthy Americans asking about all those blasted rumors that paper put out! Blasted barbarians, to think that they even have a right to know!"

"Raoul, before my performance, really?" She scolded her manager who now looked like a kicked puppy, "Did you get any donors?"

"A few, actually. But many promised funds to you after they heard you sing, so basically we have many who are willing to fund your charities."

"Wonderful," Christine said smoothly, touching up a piece of hair that probably didn't need it, but a part of her _was _nervous. Erik had assured her thousands of times that she was "perfect," but that was to be seen. She wanted to be, for him, and that was her main goal tonight.

"I don't mean to worry you, Christine, alright?" She nodded, and Raoul continued to speak, "I'll be in Monsieur Destler's box with his partner, Monsieur Khan, and apparently one of Miss Franele's friends will be in attendance as well."

"Is she trying to set you up with one of the 'filthy Americans?'" Christine asked with slight giggle, though she attempted to hide it.

"Funny, Missy, you know how I feel," he said seriously, though Christine had wished he hadn't. She was only looking at him through her mirror, but his face was just as grim there as she supposed it was in real life.

"Go, Raoul. Enjoy the evening, try to enjoy the company," she told him, turning by her waist and reaching out her hand.

He took it, a handsome smile on his face and a kiss to her gloved hand later, and Raoul left into the crowd.

A knock on her door moments later had her up from her vanity in an instant.

"Who is it?" She called, holding onto the desk as the handle moved. She hoped it wasn't Raoul coming back, but she did very so hope that it was someone telling her that she had five minutes until the show.

"Are you ready?" Came a smooth voice and a welcome surprise.

"Erik, I was hoping that that was my five minute warning!" She greeted, sitting back down as he closed her dressing room door.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I do have your seven minute one if that is enough?"

"Plenty," she replied, feeling her nerves tingle with delight.

"You look wonderful, Miss Daae," Erik said, his voice calm and collected. He did not have a single worry plaguing him, and Christine was supremely jealous of him! How could he be so sure that nothing awful would happen? She wasn't worried over her performance, mostly the audience's reaction.

"Thank you… I'm quite excited to be performing, but I'm worried over the audience…"

"Don't be," he said quickly, as if the mere idea of it was blasphemy, "You will do wonderfully, and everyone here will know it no matter what reason they came for."

Christine smiled, feeling as though any word from him could calm even her greatest fears.

"What would I do without you?" She joked, turning her head to watch the glitter on her person shine.

"You'd be wherever you were supposed to be this month! I'm glad you chose to come, though, your singing means the world to me. Talent like yours should be known by every person old and young."

Christine couldn't help but blush, and she closed her eyes at the touch of his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs soothing knots in the muscles under her neck.

"I hope I fulfill whatever it is you think I am capable of tonight," Christine said lightly, her body relaxed and the touch of warm hands nearly putting her to sleep.

"I have no doubt you will."

His hands kept moving, and she finally opened her eyes, the look of half a smile thrilling to her. His hands were so large, and with the motions, it was no surprise she felt his fingers over her skin briefly, then gone again.

But they were gone when she jumped at the sound of another knock on her door, followed by, "Five minutes, Miss Daae!"

Erik only chuckled, "I will see you after the performance for dinner. If you feel strong enough to talk to your fans after, you remember the way I showed you to the lobby?"

"I do," Christine replied quickly, standing and brushing off her dress, though it hadn't needed it.

"Best of luck, then."

"Thank you… Erik."

"You're forever welcome, Christine."

He was gone, and though she practically followed him out of her door, she was not surprised to find he was gone to the sight of the eye when she emerged in the hallway. Everyone was scrambling to get where they needed to be, and she rushed through several 'good lucks' as she arrived at her place on time. Center stage… only for her that evening… no one else.

Looking up as an announcer told the crowd of her arrival, Christine grinned at the figure sitting perfectly at the piano in the rafters. How utterly exciting this was!

She was not caught unawares as the curtains drew back and hundreds of people broke into applause, all there waiting for her to begin singing.

And so Christine Daae sang for the first time in America.

* * *

Erik had every single confidence in the world that Christine was going to, at the very least, blow away his expectations of her performance. He sat upon his pedestal and watched the lovely woman enter the stage, her look up to him enthralling, and he was ready to hear her show off. She deserved this.

The curtains pulled, and with no hesitation that Christine would follow him, Erik started, the amplification of the theater already in work as she breathed in and took the stage.

She was nothing short of perfect, and every moment of their work showed off as she launched into the first song. Though her face was hidden from him, Erik knew very well what was happening on her cheeks, and in her eyes.

He'd seen the expression hundreds of times. There would be this perfect shade of pink that would grace the high points of her face, making Christine look as though she glowed, and her eyes would brighten also. The music would consume Christine, and she would become someone else entirely.

Erik could not see Juliet or Nadir, or the ruddy Vicomte, but he imagined their impressed looks, even if de Chagny had heard Christine before, this was new. The soprano was singing his music now, and with his training, she was an entirely different performer who could please even the most critical of ears.

The first song was over in what felt like moments, and then the next, and before anyone knew it, she was off the stage, and it was time for everyone to go home.

For Erik, however, it was time for him to lurk. His theater was special for many other reasons than just the performances he put on. His theater possessed lots of intricate details that allowed him to slip through nearly the entire place unnoticed. He even had private seats that no one could access, seats which even Juliet did now know about.

He'd thought about showing them to Christine, but figured if she ever told anyone, Juliet would surely through a tantrum despite not caring at all for the things Erik put upon his stage.

So, he rushed towards the secret passages by the lobby and peered into the thrall of people, knowing Christine would make her appearance, and they'll beg for her signature and just a few moments of her time. And she would be so _loved_.

Christine showed herself as Erik expected she would, shy and glimmering, smiling brightly as people began to recognize who she was and crowded about her. She wasn't overwhelmed, if she had been, Erik would have done something. No, she embraced the crowd with a look of pure joy, hugging small children and laughing at old men's jokes.

Had Erik ever had a better Prima Donna in his theater before?

Of course not, he nearly said aloud.

How was she not hurting herself smiling so widely?

Regardless, he watched on, Raoul looking floundered by the checks and statements he was being handed, Silent donors only, please, he repeated hundreds of times until the theater was nearly empty. Christine had finally caught up to him and stuck close, prodding him with questions to which he answered inadequately.

He told her she had done wonderfully and that he'd never heard better… and while he was right, the boy was an aristocrat, couldn't he have come up with any better words? Seraphic, dulcet, peerless, angelic… and what talk of never hearing better. Never again in that man's life would he hear someone like Christine!

Erik felt his pulse rise and decided to calm himself, knowing Juliet would get antsy if he did not soon take her out to dinner.

Walking away from the scene and letting everyone to their privacy, Erik made one last stop before finding his partner and awaiting the others to join them for dinner in honor of his most fortuitous triumph.

* * *

Christine felt like she'd descended up to the highest cloud in heaven, for there was no better way to describe the way performing Erik's music had made her feel. The compliments she got were too much, but she accepted every last one of them! Oh, how wonderful that evening had been, and now to dinner.

She hoped that it wouldn't be ruined by Juliet's presence, and that with the invitation extended to Anna, Raoul would possibly think of letting her go.

Christine wasn't ever going to open her heart up to him, or to anyone for that matter, and she wished beyond everything, that he would just try and be happy! He deserved it because she'd found her happiness. Singing was everything to Christine.

She walked quickly to her rooms and thanked everyone kindly as they complimented her further, the crew utterly impressed by her for some reason or another. It was true she felt very triumphant, but she was going to be humble about it!

When she finally took a breath of cold air, wondering how Erik got her room to be this chilly, Christine was stuck in her spot just past her closed door.

Her breaths were hard and were slowing with her rest, but her eyes were locked on the almost glowing red rose that sat upon her vanity. It was perfect, the stem greener than the lawns of the rich, and the petals redder than the finest of rubies. It was the only gift in her entire dressing room, the rest seeming to be located in her actual room beyond the threshold.

She walked up to it carefully, wondering where it had come from and who had brought it to her. Christine was fascinated to realize its perfection did not end in its colors, but the fact that there were no thorns upon the long and sturdy stem.

A small note was below it, and Christine snatched it up greedily, wanting to know the gifter's secrets.

_To Christine,_

_Perfection for the perfect._

_Erik Destler_

Christine smiled happily. Erik.

Of course her tutor had given it to her, he'd thought she was perfect for far longer than only this performance. She squealed with glee and rushed to put it in water to preserve its perfect health just a little while longer. How thoughtful of him to give her a gift when he was already doing so much for her! For heaven's sake, he fed, housed, and paid her, what more could a girl ask for?

She couldn't seem to mind this one spoil, however, and decided that she had deserved the rose. What a beautiful token.

Despite her enthralled state, she did not miss the rumble of her stomach demanding she be fed soon. She changed quickly, and with a breath of fresh air to be out of her very sweaty costume, Christine practically ran to find Raoul.

"Are you ready for dinner?"

Christine had been so encapsulated by sound for the past few hours that the silence of the theater was almost scary.

"Yes, who is coming?"

"Well, Monsieur Destler, Miss Franele, her friend," Christine wiggled her eyebrows, "and the Monsieur Khan, now calm down, you. What would it show if I just dropped my affections for you with no fight?"

Christine sighed, wishing for once he just wouldn't bring it up.

"It would mean you want to be happy, Raoul. I _want_ you to be happy!"

Raoul looked at her as though that hadn't been a possibility before. That he, himself, wanting to be happy was some far-off idea that was beyond his control.

"Thank you, Christine."

She nodded, taking his proffered arm, hoping that didn't make him fall for her any harder.

They met up with everyone in the lobby and two carriages took them all to their destination, the restaurant more than Christine had expected. Hadn't her rose been enough?

Regardless, she enjoyed her time eating and laughing, sat between a reverent Erik and and a blushing Raoul who had lightened his worrying and talked animatedly with Nadir and Juliet's friend Anna.

Overall, Christine felt like she could not have had a better day, and she most likely never would.


	8. Chapter 8

It had been her final performance of the set the night before, and Christine was exhausted with cheer. She'd had a wonderful time seeing the audiences and interacting with them, wondering why she hadn't ever thought of talking with the general public before! It gave her a better sense of her performances, though Erik assured her that every single one was flawless.

She merely thought he was jesting, but it seemed that he didn't even have a single note to give her.

Regardless of that, she was excited to finally get her hands on new songs of Erik's, and he was even going to let her pick them, which was very kind of him all in all.

Christine had slept in, rising when she wanted and taking her time getting ready. No early anything had plagued her day, and she was excited to start new lessons with Erik.

She walked along the halls and headed towards their designated practice room, greedily ready to start her time with him. Christine had no idea why she enjoyed her time with him and his music so much, but she imagined that it was because of the shared passion that they had for the topic.

Music was a very wonderful influence.

Christine made her second to last turn when she came across a sickening sight. Well, she'd never really liked to see people express their love, so it was really only sickening to her.

Erik and Juliet were stood in the corridor, his hand on her face and brushing through her brown hair as they laughed at something he must have said. If he'd been with anyone else, she would have watched with a sly grin, prying into his life mischievously, but it had to be her. So, the sight was odd as he leaned down and kissed the woman, her whole body falling into his strong one.

Christine had no want for such a thing as she twirled her ring upon her finger, feeling the warm metal as it spun. It was tender and soft, but most of all it was a side of Erik Christine had never seen before.

They broke apart and he placed a final kiss to her forehead.

"Go, you, I have work I must tend to."

"Yes, Christine Daae, heaven forbid you miss a lesson." Christine could see the uncovered side of his face and smiled at the obvious furrow of a brow.

"Relax, Juliet, I must tutor her in her new songs. Would you want her to flounder and make me a poor man?"

"As if," she scoffed, "Father is sending me shopping with the help today. God save me."

"I'll save you if I must, but I'm sure he's sending you with good reason," Erik replied, obviously attempting a getaway as he stepped out from her trap.

"To pick the colors for the sitting room. I just hope I shan't have to live there much longer, is all," Juliet said lightly, and Christine glared at her audacity.

"Don't get ahead of yourself Juliet. Now go, I cannot be late."

"Right, good day, darling."

"Good day, Juliet."

Erik and she split off, Juliet heading straight and him taking the turns Christine began to follow.

Juliet seemed ready to take the final step with Erik towards something permanent, but he did not seem as inclined as he did. This made Christine rather happy because maybe it meant he was seeing sense in his poor choices. There were more tame options for him out there. Besides… he'd have to have someone who could handle that mystery of his. The mask was a daunting thing, and she still had no idea what was behind it! It could be a gruesome scar he hated… maybe he just did it for the publicity, or the worst option was that he was a criminal. They were all weird options, but Erik was a weird man.

"Hello, Christine," he said politely as she came into the room, her eyes now spotted on a huge pile of scores which were all variously taken care of. Some were leather-bound and beautiful, others were sheets of paper just stacked differently to separate them from others tattered and in the same condition.

"Hello!" She replied, attempting to pretend she hadn't been listening to his most recent rendezvous with his partner.

"You know eavesdropping is very uncouth."

Christine hadn't even reached for a score yet when she was frozen in her spot once again. The only thing that was going through her mind were even more uncouth things, and she could feel every prickle of heat blooming on her face.

"I really didn't mean to," she squeaked eventually, attempting to evade his eye. She felt rather awful about it now, but in the moment her curiosity and disgust had won out.

She couldn't see him, but she could see his feet as they were soon very close to her skirts.

"I am an open book," he said quietly, startling her at his closeness, "For most things, anyways. I do have some secrets I care to keep, but none that I would be sharing in the theater's halls. Say hello next time, is all."

Christine felt so very foolish. Her father had taught her better!

"I'm so sorry, Monsieur Destler."

Coolness touched Christine's chin by way of thin fingers, the same ones that had massaged out her shoulders a few days ago, and she was encouraged to look up, her eyes meeting two very bright ones. Maybe it had just taken her a while, or maybe she'd never been this close to him, but his eyes were not green as she'd thought. They were yellow, and it was a striking color now that she knew it was there.

"No apologies needed. Hold your head high, and know that I didn't even have to forgive you, I cared so little."

His smile was reassuring, and Christine felt her heart slow slightly at the grin, his hand going back to his side.

"Thank you, I suppose."

"Why don't we just get to the music?" He wondered, motioning to the pile and shifting so he could pass through the works. "I truly have no preference, but it is all good, if I say so myself."

Christine did not doubt that.

They spent the next bit looking through various pieces and singing through almost all of them. Of course each score was brilliant, and Christine wished she could sing them all. That wasn't how it worked, however, and eventually she chose a wonderful little piece that was high in her register but would give her a healthy challenge, and a beautiful love song that he'd composed on a whim one late evening. The funny thing about the piece was that it hadn't even belonged in the pile, but Christine did not let that stop her from pulling the wedged-in pieces of parchment towards her, insisting he cooperate.

Erik allowed her the freedom to sing it and made positively sure she would like to at least fifteen times before their day was over and she practically had it memorized already.

Before she was let off for the night to rest and coat her throat with some tea, Christine stopped Erik, curious as to when he'd written the song.

"What inspired this?"

He was seated at the piano, as was custom it seemed, because he loved to play when their lessons were over, it was what had put her to rest most nights on the boat, hearing the melodic whisper of his talented hands. Erik didn't move, merely adjusted his mask and looked up at her with contemplation.

"You'll notice it is very simple, yes?"

Christine nodded, not sure how to respond else-wise.

"Well, when I was young I did not know what love was. I hadn't even heard the word until I was older and something… drastic happened between my mother and I. Then I went through this phase of… terrible things, really, and still no love to be found. So, when I thought I'd found it, of course I was very wrong, and then I came here to reinvent myself. My definition of love only stemmed from one relationship I knew, and that was of Nadir and his family's. Now, we are both still rather young men, but we've dealt with a lot in our lives. He especially. It is not my tale to tell, but Nadir suffered great losses in which I was only a witness to his son's. That was the only love I had ever truly seen, but it was pure and wholesome, nothing like what lovers would experience. I only know little of his romantic relationship, and because of that I dreamt what it would be like to have that love. Romantic love, and those dreams were almost like out-of-body experiences where I would write pieces like this. Nadir thinks they're funny because I haven't ever had love like it before but I described it accurately, or so he said."

Christine looked at him with concern, wondering how his parents had treated him so poorly he did not know what love was.

"You've experienced love since then, though, yes? I do not crave this type of thing, but I imagine you love Juliet… and your relationship with Monsieur Khan is very brotherly, though I see why now."

Erik seemed to study her for a moment, and Christine felt mildly insecure as he tried to read her face. She hated not being able to read his, though it wasn't for lack of trying.

"Yes, I do love Juliet, in my way. I wonder though, if what I feel is right or not. Nadir hates her, so I cannot ask if what I feel is true or not, meaning I basically guess and assume, going on a whim. It's an interesting life to live. But, I do… _love_ Nadir I suppose. Just don't ever tell him, the man wouldn't let me hear the end of it!" Erik exclaimed as though the very idea sounded painful.

"I won't tell, I promise. It's a shame he doesn't like Juliet," Christine said with a very fake look of sadness.

"I know you do not care for her either, Miss Daae. You need not hide it. What I have with her, works, though, so I try my best to keep her about."

Christine felt caught again, but the same look that was on his face earlier was there still, and she could tell that he meant what he'd said. Erik understood that not everyone would agree, she just wished she could help him.

"I'm sure if you're willing to put up with people disliking her, then I'm sure you love her."

Erik smiled, "Thank you, Miss Daae. But the song, by the way, was born of those dreams and my ignorance. They're almost like an experience which I do not remember happening, but not like when you're inebriated to the point of forgetfulness or on strong drugs. Merely too tired or something like that."

She felt like his tale was of experience in those things and did not want to ask further. He was who he was now, and that was all that mattered.

"Thank you for answering, Monsieur Destler, it means very much to me that you've taken the time to not only appease my silly questions, but to have me here. I'm finding America a lot more to my liking than I originally thought I might."

"You're very welcome, Miss Daae."

Christine couldn't help the immense smile that lifted her lips, clutching the works she was to practice that evening with glee.

"Good evening then, Erik."

"Good evening, Christine."

Her name was music on his lips, and Christine took leave of the room, happier than a bird in spring.

* * *

Erik watched Christine leave, feeling her presence wash from him entirely. When she'd said his name he felt a bond form that was different than what they'd had previously. He associated it to a friendship, like the moment when he finally knew that no matter what he did Nadir would stick by his side, and he was happy to have that with Christine.

She was wonderful in more ways than he could count, and having a friend like her meant the world to someone who had had so few friends in his lifetime.

And to hear reassurance that he loved Juliet was most helpful. He'd always wondered, when writing songs like these, if the love he was conveying was anything close to the truth. And while he still may be wrong or it may be different than what real love felt like, if it worked for him then so be it. Erik had always been very independent, and that was what worked worked for him. No one was going to tell him how to live his life anymore.

Looking at the pile of music, Erik sighed and decided to place everything back where it belonged, lugging it to his office.

Of course, he was less than surprised to find his Juliet there.

"Hey, you, how was your lesson?"

"Enlightening," Erik replied, kissing her soundly as he had that morning with a peering Christine around the corner.

"Did you finally realize that all this," she motioned to the surroundings of his theater, implying her distaste for his oddity, "Is… a lot?"

"Hardly," Erik dismissed her. This was probably why Nadir and Christine disliked her so much. The very thing that Erik enjoyed more than anything was this theater and what it stood for, yet Juliet liked neither of the things.

Erik liked the contrast, however… he enjoyed being able to listen to her and have the change in the day, though every once in a while he yearned for a good argument on whether it was Verdi or Puccini who held best opera title.

"Then what was it?"

Erik stood before her and cupped her cheek, this type of tenderness odd for him, but he did enjoy it sincerely as he touched her skin.

"That I love you."

"Oh!" She said and began to look excited, then curious, "You've told me that before, did you stop for a while, or?"

"No," he said, "You know how odd I am, I merely was unsure."

"Ah," Juliet said knowingly, "You are so very odd."

Her hand gently skimmed the mask, and Erik reached up to hold her hand flat to it.

"I love you, also, Erik."

"Good, I would expect no less," he retorted, kissing her firmly.

Sometimes he yearned for something more solid, but she liked soft, and hard banter only when it came to words.

"Will you come to lunch with father and I tomorrow? He has not seen you as of late and is getting worried," Juliet said with conviction.

"I can go, surely. Will a carriage be by to pick me up?"

"Fifteen to noon," she said happily, appeased.

"See you then, Juliet."

"See you then, Erik."


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: It's been four days, and I have no patience. Enjoy! _

The morning was cold, and Christine was curious as to why. The weather in New York never seemed to be the same, according to Erik, but she knew that eventually, they would warm the sound room with her voice and their mirth. It wouldn't take long for the chill to go away. He said they were lucky to have been here during summer, as winter and spring were the most unpredictable of seasons on the continent.

Christine did not miss Europe as much as she'd thought she would. She imagined that it would eventually fade, and homesickness would hit her as it always did when she was too far away from Sweden, but Christine loved it here….

"Good morning, Miss Daae, how was your night?"

Erik seemed his normal self that day, refined and business-like.

"Good, I did have a bit of trouble with the second refrain of the one song, though, I just couldn't get the notes to stick in my head, and I might have practiced them wrong," she said with grimace.

"This part?" He wondered, playing the notes on the piano without even a glance at the score she was referencing.

"Yes! Ugh, I thought it was a G, not an A, I'm going to have to unlearn that. Can we work through lunch?"

Erik seemed to contemplate something briefly, then looked unbothered, "I don't see why not. Have you eaten a substantial enough breakfast for that?"

"Yes," she replied happily, knowing that she needed to work hard to reverse the damage she'd done to Erik's poor song. At least it wasn't the love song that Christine had ruined or she would have felt awful. It wasn't even supposed to be a viable option for her, and the fact that he trusted her enough to sing it and do justice to it was extremely showing.

They spent an entire hour on the first song, attempting to get the refrain back into shape. Erik had laughed at her the first time, but it seemed that it was a genuine disbelief that his infallible little star had made such a simple mistake. Basically, Christine knew that he was not taking pleasure in her fault, but merely amused that it happened at all.

He was pleasant company the whole day, and they eventually did fix the problem in her aria. The love song she cherished so wonderfully was only a short amount of their time together that day, but it was in good shape.

"What is your plan for this evening?" Erik asked as he began to organize his music, Christine only having to close the leather-bound score back up.

"Raoul wants to take me out into the city for the night," she told him happily, "He has got it in his head that we must try the "French Cuisine" they supposedly serve here."

"I must say, it does not live up to where I was born. I miss nothing from France bar the food," he said with a slight frown. Christine truly enjoyed standing on his left side, being able to see the slight emotion he betrayed.

"We had a feeling. Raoul is my friend, however, and he wanted to go. There is no harm, I just fear he won't let me go…"

Christine held her music in her hands, almost clutching to her chest in a child-like fashion. She hated to bring up Raoul's fancy of her in front of Erik, but she just wanted advice from someone who wasn't Raoul promising he knew his place.

"He does seem quite keen on you. Try as Juliet might, her friend didn't seem to stick either."

Erik offered her no words of advice, and she looked to him curiously. Christine tried very hard to discern what was in his voice, but he seemed rather complacent to the idea.

"What should I do? He cannot keep holding out for me, it shan't happen."

Men were much more responsive to directness, Christine had learned over the years, and the humming thought vibrating off of Erik was obviously getting her the response she wanted. He had such a lovely voice, if only he didn't wear a mask, he could be as famous as she!

"I'm sure you've told the stubborn Vicomte, but just because you tell someone things can't happen, doesn't mean they lose the emotion they have. The amount of times Nadir has told me Juliet is insufferable hasn't changed the fact that I love her."

Christine giggled, but felt out of options. She loved Raoul in a way that wasn't what he wanted, and one day she prayed he could find that in someone else entirely. Why shouldn't he be happy and have wonderful little children that looked like him and spoke in broken tongues because of the amount of languages their father spoke?

"I just want what's best for my friend. How do I get him to be happy? One day the travelling and planning will tire him, I'm surprised it hasn't yet! He's titled for heaven's sake. He should have married five years ago!"

Erik chuckled, and it seemed _at _her, but Christine highly doubted this.

"It seems like you just don't want that attention on you anymore, Miss Daae," Christine went to protest, but she was stopped by those yellow eyes forcing her into quiet, "It's only fair. You have ceased to be flattered by it, is all. I'd suggest start setting him up, maybe forcing it on him. Send him home, perhaps."

"I can't fire him!" Christine nearly shouted.

The masked-man put his hands up, surrendering to her sudden outburst. She just thought it was what he meant, was all.

"Plenty of women would kill to travel or move to France. Have you tried assuring him that you would still need him if he didn't carry those feelings for you? Maybe as your manager he feels like if he puts that attention towards another person your relationship would fail."

Now that was an idea she'd never thought of before.

Christine would cherish Raoul no matter where he was or what he was doing. If he wanted to marry and go home, that was fine by her! All her expenses could be forwarded there to him, there was no need for his closeness if he still wanted to be involved! What an interesting topic she would have to discuss with him over dinner that evening.

"That's quite genius."

"I'm known for it," Erik said with a dazzling smirk.

"Very funny, Monsieur. I'll see you tomorrow?" Christine was now eager to dine with Raoul.

"Of course."

Rushing from the room with a fistful of her skirts, Christine readied for dinner with proper attire and hair for a night out on the town.

She jumped with excitement at the sound of a knock, and she nearly bowled Raoul over with her enthusiasm. Christine did calm down slightly on the ride there, however, as she didn't want to get his hopes up with false perceptions.

"So, will you tell me now what has you in this giddy manner?" He asked regally, picking up his menu and glancing over the various items listed in French, described in English.

"Well, it's something along the lines of brilliant advice I have garnered recently," she replied, not even caring to look at the offered dishes quite yet.

"Oh?" He said, a laugh next on his lips, but it stopped at the serious look she knew she was putting up. "You're worrying me."

"No need for worry, Raoul, I simply wanted to tell you that, say you decided to leave my side one day for the favor of a woman, we would still be friends… and you are still very welcome to be my manager."

The poor man looked as though she was firing him.

"You aren't implying anything by that, right Christine?"

"No," she assured him, "I just needed you to know that you will still be my dearest friend, even if you cease to tour with me. It's not that I don't need you, I always will. It is simply that I want you to start a life, Raoul… one that isn't revolved around an unavailable Soprano."

She smiled at him tenderly, ignoring the waiter who placed their drinks down and scurried off, Raoul thanking the boy then going straight back to looking insulted. Well, it wasn't really insult that laid on his face, more of a sad child look.

"What if, one day, you change your mind?" He offered, grasping at fragile threads.

"I won't," she told him, and it was something he'd known for a long time now. Hopefully he understood.

His eyes drifted down to his glass, and he twirled the stem of his white wine, watching the motions the liquid made with an intensity Christine had only ever seen him use on her. Thoughts were dragging his mind now, menu laid closed, and silence reigning over their table. She understood, really, with only a few words, she'd finally given him enough to think about to consider letting her go. While Christine was very sure that it wasn't that easy, at least maybe this could finally be the start of his process.

"I thought you were just being foolish at first… that you'd come to your sense or come to love me somehow…" Raoul had not looked up, inhaling sharply before continuing, much less the aristocrat with his shoulders hunched like that. "I'm sorry for holding the notions, I've fallen quite far, and it is so rare for my kind, to have done what I have… but this is tiring, as much as I am remiss to admit. I'd like to go home… to stay in France for longer than a few weeks."

Christine let out a breath of excitement as she watched his face grow with happiness.

"I won't leave you here in New York, but I think maybe it is time I go home once this is over. You're solidly booked for the next year, so I can travel for a while longer until I truly tire. Will you come to the Chateau after that? To see me?" Finally, blue eyes met her own in kind.

"You're going to stay at the Chateau? What about the Manor? And you're silly if you think I wouldn't visit," she said, suddenly overwhelmed with a melancholy feeling. She was proud to see him accept these things, but sad to see him go.

"Philippe would be remiss to let me back without something to show for it. He calls this charity-work, though I've tried to spare you that comment."

Christine shook her head, "I expected no less from him, he only ever liked me as a potential wife for you."

"Well, that's two of us de Chagny's sorely disappointed," he jested lightly, and Christine could not have been happier to see his lightheartedness return, and a very happy ending for the rest of their night.

* * *

While Christine was at dinner, Erik was thinking about the day he spent with her, amused that she'd mis-learned a piece of music so spectacularly. It was a rare talent, but they were able to fix it, and she had two new and wonderful songs to perform for the upcoming performances which were almost nearly sold-out again. He knew the public would enjoy her thoroughly, there was no way they wouldn't if he so adored her voice.

She was perfect, truly, and he was thankful for Nadir finding her. It would go to the old man's head, however, if he ever told him that.

Finishing up his business, Erik decided it was time to head home, and he looked forward to being able to rest his fingers for the day. Playing so relentlessly was tiring to say the least, and while he enjoyed it, some days it ached on his joints. He wasn't exactly a spring chicken.

His flat was only a few blocks away from the theater for various reasons, most of which were that Nadir had forbade him from simply living at the place. It made sense, but he hated him all the more for it anyways.

It was simple compared to the rest of his life, full of his suits and not much else besides a large black bed and accompanying black drapes.

What wasn't supposed to be there was the note slipped under his door.

The handwriting was familiar, and so was the condescending tone within it.

_Erik, _

_You missed lunch with my father, and made me look a fool! You know how important attendance is to my father, he hardly likes you in the first place! _

_Anyways, I changed our lunch to dinner on Friday, and if you're not there I will skin your hide Erik Destler! _

_Yours, _

_Juliet_

Quite the scathing letter for such a small woman, he thought. He did feel terrible for missing their date, but Christine had needed him. Miss Daae's success was very important to him.

It was very important to the lavish lifestyle he enjoyed living. Not only him, but Juliet as well.

He would make dinner on Friday no problem, as long as it wasn't during one of Christine's performances. He was _in_ the performances for heaven's sake, surely Juliet remembered that?

Erik tossed the letter aside and settled into his home, taking off his coat jacket and unbuttoning his vest, one of his garments he really could live without. The pesky thing was never tight enough, he had a thin frame, and most tailors did not suit him properly.

His own meal for the evening did not consist of anything plentiful, but at least his mind got to work. He wondered over Christine and how her dinner was faring. That de Chagny really did seem like the pesky type, and he would hate to see her so distraught over the boy if he continued to pester her for a relationship she obviously did not want. The way he was so possessive over her couldn't be healthy, either.

Erik doubted that Christine would ever fail to succeed, and therefore saw little need in having her manager there with her at all times. She did need to start saving money for when the time came to retire. Her voice would not last forever, as much as Erik wished he could bottle it up and preserve for the rest of his own pitiful existence, but still. The young thing was smart, and he was sure she knew that when the time came, she would have to limit her donations.

What a wonderful soul to be so lovely as to donate most of her makings to charities. He couldn't have a better woman upon his stage, let alone a better performer. Christine's skills were unmatched, and Erik was smitten with her voice. He would travel many miles on any type of transportation to continue to hear her sing.

Erik had already jokingly mentioned to Nadir that he was now allowed to pick singers without him coming to see them, but of course neither party thought that true. Christine had been a diamond not exactly in the ruff, but certainly not on the display she should have been on. His stage was just enough to skyrocket her to world fame. There were so few who were known all over the world, their image transcending over various languages and countries.

The thoughts in his mind did not cool on Christine and how wonderful she was, no, even when his mask was off and he felt more than ever unworthy of those around him, he thought only of her and her enchanting voice. What a strange night indeed.


	10. Chapter 10

Erik was very happy not to have missed the late dinner Juliet had demanded his presence at that evening, but he would henceforth miss almost any lunch for an upcoming week. He was spending Christine's newfound freedom of her manager discussing music with her and treating her to more songs of his own composition than he could count. It was the blonde soprano's third week in New York, and not only did she have more overseas offers already inflowing, she also had many offers for New York venues and other places in the states. Though, no venue would ever match Erik's.

Erik was surprised to hear it from Christine, however.

"You did wonderfully today, Christine, how about I treat you to dinner?" He asked her, their lesson rather gruesome, but rewarding.

"That sounds wonderful! You know, I don't think I've ever gotten such wonderful accommodations before you," she said with a smile, looking rather vibrant that warm summer day. They had the windows open, so a warm summer breeze had accompanied them that lesson.

"That's how I get you to never leave me," Erik replied silkily.

"Funny," Christine said, "Truthfully, I don't think I'll ever be able to perform in New York unless it's here. It will be a while, though, I have over twenty offers right now, I'll be booked for years in Europe and Asia!"

Her laugh was Erik's own reward, so happy to know that his work had given her career a large boost, even if it had already been rather wonderful. Still, knowing he had ruined New York, or possibly even this country for her was a very gratifying feeling. He liked to know he was the one and only.

"Your talent is so precious to me, I wish I could keep you here eternally, but it is also so precious that I know you must share it. You will go so very far, Miss Daae."

"Thank you," she replied kindly, more of her smiling, and he might just lock her away anyways.

"Why don't you ready for dinner?"

"Surely," Christine said in reply, "See you soon."

Erik nodded his head towards the girl and cleaned up their practice room, feeling so lighthearted he felt as though nothing could ruin his mood. Not even a snooping Persian who had kept his nose out of Erik's business this long that he was almost surprised.

It was after they'd shared a wonderful dinner that Erik was cornered by Nadir.

"Three weeks and she hasn't failed us yet, I imagine you are very proud," Nadir said casually, their meeting in Erik's office not as clandestine as either man would like to think.

"The feeling I have is compared to nothing I've ever experienced," the masked-man replied, waiting for the loaded question Nadir would pose. The old man always did those things.

"Not even compared to your love of Juliet?"

"Oh, don't attempt to get me off her now, you've been dealing with her for months," Erik said, though even he hadn't seen her in quite a few days. Their relationship had taken a strain because of Christine. It wasn't the soprano's fault Juliet couldn't remember their schedule, however.

"I'm not, no, nothing of the sort," Nadir replied casually, sticking his hands in his pockets, leaning against Erik's desk. "I'm just curious as to if you're getting your emotions mixed up. You didn't even have any when I met you."

Erik made a face that said he was very uninterested in this conversation going wherever it was.

"All I am saying," the Persian said in defense, "Is that you seem to be more in love with your star than your partner."

Erik laughed because the suggestion was laughable… at least, in his perspective. "What a ridiculous notion. I love Juliet, Christine even helped me realize such a thing."

"Right," Nadir said with that worried look Erik hated. It meant the man was going to try to father him which never quite worked out the way either wanted it to, "Which is even more concerning. The girl might like you in return. You two spend a significant amount of your time with one-another, and I have no doubts that you would drop Juliet in a moment's notice if Christine beckoned."

Erik felt like his face was printed under a headline saying "Masked-Man" without his consent.

"You're blowing this out of the water, old man. I don't see why you even care."

"I like Christine far better than Juliet, and even though I do not care for the young woman, she doesn't deserve to be strung along, Erik. No woman wants to be held by a man who thinks of a another woman at night."

Heading towards his chair, Erik merely sat down at his desk and decided not to care about whatever his friend was saying. It wasn't possible he was caring for the young soprano, was it? Her voice was his main focus, not her soul. It was an enchanting one, sure, but that was nothing to fall at her feet over.

Meals, breaks, rehearsals… all were spent with her, even his free time had been sanctioned off by the Swede. Erik felt concern well up in him, had he been neglecting his work for her? That was not acceptable, but Juliet… Nadir was right.

While that meant quite a few things, Erik took only to the fact that he needed to end things with her before anything too serious happened. She'd been wonderful, but the things he was realizing he felt for Christine… these were more genuine than anything in his life. He'd never had something like it before, and if he could get Christine to follow along, Erik would be in paradise.

"I have to go," Erik said suddenly, Nadir looking smug with himself.

"Don't ask out Miss Daae too quickly, you'll scare her off and it would not make Miss Franele extremely happy. You can't go gallivanting now."

"As if I'd ever _gallivant_," Erik hissed, practically running towards Juliet's home. He took a carriage, but still, he did rush.

When Mr. Franele opened the door, Erik was not greeted kindly. He deserved it, but this man didn't know that yet.

"You've had terrible manners lately," the man said with a frown.

"Sorry sir, I must speak with Juliet."

"If you insist," he said, looking down upon him as though he didn't even deserve to walk through the front door.

"Juliet," he said when he found her in her room, writing a letter of sorts.

"Oh, I haven't seen you in days, I'm surprised you're even here at all. Unless I am simply imagining you, which I almost find more likely than your presence!" She remarked, her voice angry and sad.

Erik hated to hurt her like this, truly, but he had priorities, and one of them was Christine. He couldn't deny it any longer, and staying with this woman was not entirely good for his health or anyone's reputation.

"I sincerely apologize, but I fear I have bad news."

"Are you finally ending things?" She asked bluntly, standing from her desk and gripping the chair with the strength of a vice.

"What do you mean?" He retorted, feeling dumb that she'd anticipated this.

"If you spent a second longer with that soprano of yours than you did me, I would have done this myself-"

"Nadir mentioned something," Erik interrupted, taking a step forward but was immediately halted by an unwavering hand.

"That blasted man, always trying to get rid of me, though this time he didn't have to try too hard. You did it on your own. You are extremely attached to that girl."

Erik nodded vigorously, he'd never acted so childish in his life, not even as a toddler! Here he was, however, caught in this big situation that he put himself in. It seemed natural to be in an odd situation at this point in his life.

"Things happen, I suppose."

"That they do, Erik. That they do. Now please go. My father hates you enough as it is, if he finds out you've tossed me to the wolves he'll hunt you down with his rifle."

He needed no further warning.

* * *

Christine looked out over the crowd as she finished her final song of the evening. It was finally time for a break come the next few days, and she certainly needed it. Raoul was even urging her to relax, and Erik had been unusually silent as of late. Maybe they all needed a few nights rest.

She went back to her dressing room and found Erik awaiting her, looking very pleased.

Then again, he was always rather pleased with her performance. He was the one to form it, so that probably helped.

"How did I do?"

"As if you need ask," he responded jovially, walking away from his spot and taking her hand, kissing it gently.

"I ask because I want an answer. I can't always be perfect."

"Fine then. You were marvelous, more so than usual, actually. You did come in a beat too early for your second verse on your last song, but the cadenza was more than enough to redeem you."

Christine laughed, thinking back to the song and realizing she hadn't even noticed it. Her mind had been so focused on the crowd.

"Good to know. I'll take care the next few days, it's one of the ones we're cycling out, however, so I shan't be too worried."

"I wouldn't ever worry," he said with a smile.

"Raoul has a business date for dinner, are you free this evening?" She asked him, hoping to catch him before Juliet had made him promise anything.

"I am going to be free most evenings now," he said cryptically, looking slightly joyous over the fact.

She scrunched her eyebrows, quickly divesting of all her jewelry as she looked into the vanity, catching a glimpse of the masked-man in her mirror. "What do you mean?"

"I have been uncoupled recently."

"And _why _are you happy about that?" She wondered in amused confusion, heading behind her changing screen to get into proper clothes.

"I finally got the Persian off my back, and well, truthfully, we weren't making each other happy anymore," came his answer.

Christine hadn't known this, and suddenly she felt like a terrible friend. He'd been unhappy? She couldn't imagine that when they spent so much time together and he was joyful with her. Then again, he was such a good person, maybe he just didn't want to bring her down.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but you kept such a brave face! I hope you're happiness comes, Erik."

"Thank you," he replied, "I have a feeling that it'll be here faster than I know it."

She got her gown situated and headed out from her screen, smiling delightfully.

"Allow me to pay?"

He scoffed, "As if."

She had to try.

Erik offered her his arm and they went off to dinner. She did feel rather upset for him, wondering how he'd simply brushed off the fact that her and his partner were no longer together.

As they walked through the city, Christine happily took Erik's proffered arm. There were so many tall buildings here and millions of varying people. Not a single one looked like the other, and this thrilled Christine. Sure, she loved Paris and Sweden, the two places which felt like home most, but New York… had a charm all of its own, partially she credited the charm to the man of whose arm she was on. Never would she have experienced such a place if it weren't for him. She was in debt to Erik.

"You know," she started gently, "You have been more than kind to me while I have been here. I do not think that I will be able to thank you enough."

She was standing on the side the mask did not cover, and her heart hammered to see him smile. He did not come up with something so genuine very often.

"I was more than happy to provide you every accommodation possible for you, for any singer really, that has such wonderful vocals and enjoys playing on my stage. Although I have stated multiple times that you are the best vocalist to ever grace my stage."

She blushed, appreciative of the compliment.

"You're too kind. I'll have to come back sometime and see if that remains true."

Erik stopped, dead in the center of the walk as people passed by them, not seeming to care that they were they as they passed by. He looked intensely at her, and suddenly Christine worried that she had said something untoward.

He spoke first, however.

"You have, and always will be, the best. Christine, if you came back, I doubt I will have had a talent even half as good as yours sing for me. You're only one of two who have sang my works, what makes you think that anyone could surpass you?"

She was speechless for a moment.

"I-" she stopped, attempting to stop her pounding heart, "There are hundreds of other singers out there, surely I cannot be the best of all of them."

"I would think so," he determined, throwing them back into the walking crowd, "You are here, are you not? And the fact that you- your voice might one day come back to me… I couldn't think of anything better."

"That's very kind of you. Though, do contact me personally, I feel like Raoul would not be very happy to book me here again if he's still travelling with me."

She smiled up at him as he suddenly turned them, their restaurant in front of them. He led her inside and spoke lowly with the greeter who seemed to recognize Erik.

They were seated at a corner table, Erik shadowed in the darkest part of the place, but she wasn't surprised. Though he put on a brave face for the public, she could tell that it often affected him.. His malady that he so boisterously hid. She would have thought something other than white would draw less attention, but Christine wasn't going to correct him on his fashion choices. Besides, the first time she'd ever seen him was tucked into the corner of a restaurant in Sweden.

"I think that Monsieur de Chagny and I got off on the wrong foot," Erik said as they began to sip on the champagne he'd ordered, "He did not appreciate me usurping you from your time elsewhere, and I do not care to continue being hostile towards him. Besides, the next time you might arrive here, I will have properly awaited you to be free to do so. Though, I feel as though I should book you now, how far out are you already?"

Christine had to ignore the odd statement about Erik and Raoul's relationship to answer his question which was no easy feat.

"I'm booked out for only three and a half years, not everyone can afford me for two months, you know?" She teased. "The longest I have, however is a month long tenure."

Erik nodded, "Three and a half years is so long, I want you to come sooner, but like I said," he assuaged her worry quickly. She would not cancel on those she was already booked for again, "I will wait. Do you want to come back?"

"I would like nothing more," she said, reaching across the table and taking his hand gently.

This calmed Erik immensely, and he breathed out, holding her hand back with a reverent look on his features.

They did not stay like this for long, but Christine mourned the contact when he seemed to acknowledge the awkwardness of the situation. She adored Erik, truly, and Christine couldn't imagine having a better friend than him. His music was paramount, as was hers, for she was married to hers.

"Why are you concerned about Raoul's and your… attitude towards one-another, Erik?" She only remembered this detail later, their meals practically finished at this point. And what a grand meal it had been!

"Well we," he started, but did not seem inclined to finish it. "I feel that I've ostracized him in this city with no one but you for company, and since I take up so much of your time, my conscience grew concerned. I'd hate to be the cause of someone's loneliness."

Christine giggled, seeing that Erik did not entirely look convinced in his own explanation.

"I see… well, I assure you that he is doing just fine. But, it would mean the world for me if you two got along better. I don't see there being any negative effects in such a thing."

"Good" he replied pridefully, and Christine was reminded of one of those big feathered birds… peacocks! Which were always prideful birds.

"Thank you for supper, by the way, I truly appreciate everything you have done for me."

"And you've only been here for a month."

Erik winked and Christine felt heat come to her cheeks at the prospect of spending more time with him. Considering she was leaving soon it wouldn't hurt to spend extra time if she wouldn't be seeing him for over three years.

This thought hurt her more than she was willing to admit.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: I looked at this chapter and wondered to myself, why was it over 3000 words? Then, I read through and remembered. Whoops. _

There was a show that evening, and as Raoul pestered Christine about this or that, she readied for the performance.

"And though the states are very crude, I believe it might do some good to book here again. You have opened up to Asia, which offered you wonderful allowances, but we don't speak many of their languages, I know a small amount of Japanese, but not enough to hold a conversation."

Christine turned to Raoul quickly, his attention falling completely upon her, "I will not perform here again unless it is in this theater."

"Really?" He replied as though this would not get in his way of booking her in the states, "Why is that?"

"I couldn't… I would feel like I am betraying Monsieur Destler, Raoul. That wouldn't be right of me. He's given us more than anyone else before him, and the music that I've shared… it would be a dishonor to him if I were to escapade about various theaters elsewhere on this continent."

Christine turned back to the mirror at the sight of Raoul's disappointment.

"You are very stubborn, Christine, and I understand your fealty to this man, but he does not command your career."

"And you do?" She retorted, her eyes narrowing on him through the reflection of the mirror.

"No," Raoul sighed, looking defeated… finally. Christine knew he had his heart in the right place, but she had already agreed to fill her closest open slot with Erik again. Another two months that she was already looking forward to.

He promised her a slew of new music they could dig into, and part of her yearned for it now, and yet another part wanted to wait and see what glory he could come up with next.

"I need you to fill January and February of 1913 with this theater again. I promised Erik last evening."

"_Erik_, hmm? You know, he has been oddly kind lately, I don't care for it. I preferred having a reason to not like him. Have you… rescinded your marriage to your career by any chance?"

Christine huffed, "Not at all, Raoul. He and I spend a lot of time together and have become friends. I am friends with you, why not with him? And what a jump of conclusions!"

Her companion snorted, "Not a jump at all. You spend so much of your time with him. That, and whenever I see the two of your together, you are so vibrantly happy."

At this, Raoul knelt before her chair on her left and she had no choice but to turn to him. He took her hands in his and looked up at her with kind eyes. She hadn't seen him so intense since one of the last times he'd tried to convince her to let him into her heart.

"I've never seen you happier, Christine. If he does… make you happy, then I want you to be able to grasp that with all of your heart. Say one day I do finally drag my soul into a bond with a woman who isn't you, then you will be alone! It would not hurt to find you someone to love, although, you've had better options," he jested tenderly, the rest of his speech sincere.

Christine nearly had tears in her eyes as she contemplated the way she felt about Erik. There was no denying their mutually pleasing fondness for one-another, but she'd made it very clear to him that relationships were off the table for her. And she simply did not care for him that way, and she doubted he cared for her in the same regard when he had so recently been through a bad relationship.

"You needn't worry about me being alone if that future of yours comes," she consoled Raoul, freeing her hand and placing it on his shoulder, "I will be doing what I love!"

"And Erik?"

She couldn't seem to slip him from it, "I told you, I am married to my art."

Raoul nodded firmly in reply, his face resolute and seemingly sated.

"You have assuaged my worries then. I trust you, Christine."

"Thank you, Raoul."

There was a knock on Christine's door, and Raoul eased her, telling her he would receive her visitor for her.

There came no surprise to him when he was greeted with the masked face of Monsieur Destler.

"Come in," he didn't even hesitate to announce who it was to Christine, she would admit him.

"Thank you, Monsieur."

She smiled when she saw Erik, his niceties with Raoul over before they'd really even begun.

"I just stopped in to make sure that you had the last six bars of the last piece down like settled concrete, because we have a chance to go over it right now if you feel even the slightest bit of hesitance."

Christine smiled, her look for the night finished, so she stood and shook her head.

"No need, I promise! I hammered out the details last night by myself. I do know enough piano to get me by, and it worked out very well."

"Good," Erik said, "Though if you start performing without me, I will be bereft."

"No promises." She winked at him, and he smiled charmingly back at her.

Suddenly, he turned, pointing to Raoul with a conviction she didn't think him capable of.

"Did she inform you of my scheduling hopes? I want the next slot, if at all possible, Monsieur. Two months like this time, but at least I waited my turn for this one!"

Christine was very amused at the uncomfortable look on Raoul's face. What made it all the better was that she hadn't a clue whether or not Erik was laying it on thick or merely strangely jovial in that moment.

"That you did," Raoul said, glancing to her quickly with a look that explained his discomfort, "I put you into her planner. We had to buy new pocketbooks for her to hold all of her scheduled performances."

"I am not surprised."

"As fun as talking about how truly successful I am, I have a performance soon, you two! Get out before I call a guard!"

Raoul bowed to her in his typical fashion, and Erik merely winked giving her an answer to her earlier question. He was at least trying to be nice to Raoul who wasn't completely shooting him down.

Christine was more than sure that Erik had no romantic feelings for her. As she sang upon the stage, nothing changed for her or him as their performance dynamic was flawless as usual. They made a wonderful team. She would truly mourn not having him backing her for the rest of her days as a singer. Two months at a time in the distant future would never be enough. That didn't mean she had a say in the matter, but it certainly had made her upset.

That was why she supposed it was so wonderful to be able to spend time with him after the show that evening.

"I need to ask you a favor," she told him diligently, earning herself an odd look of response.

"And this would be?"

"I would like one of my evening's salaries."

This stunned him, and Christine was not surprised in the slightest that he reacted this way. It was not often she demanded more money than she needed to live off, but she wanted to do something special that evening.

"Of course…" he was nearly stuttering, "What for, is everything alright?"

Christine did imagine he was going to pull bills from his pocket to hand to her, but she took them nonetheless in hopes that it would more easily convince him of what she wanted.

"I want to finally take you out to dinner, you mad man."

She watched him visibly relax, giggling all the while.

"Christine! I have told you!"

"And now I'm telling you!" She was stern, literally putting her foot down in a great show of her stance on things.

They stared at one-another for a moment, and he seemed to only soften when she stuck her lip out to seal the deal.

That evening she took him out to dine.

* * *

Christine had looked positively radiant that evening, and Erik was head over heels for the woman before him. He had finally conceded to allowing her to pay for a meal, even though he'd practically handed her the money right out of his account.

Still, to see her beam the way she did as she paid for the evening meal and an expensive bottle of wine… it had been very worth it. It had pleased her tremendously, and as Erik went through the evening watching her smile widen and widen, he had no more qualms. He was already looked at strangely due to either his reputation or mask, so what was the difference if people thought it strange the lady he was with paid their way?

At the end of the evening he walked her back to where she was residing, and attempted to keep her from falling seeing as she'd had a few too many glasses of that fine wine she had paid so handsomely for. He didn't mind the heavy leaning, however.

As he made her promise she could handle herself in her rooms she made it very clear to him that she might regret the morning light when it came.

Regardless, Erik was happier than Nadir with his spicy foods, and this prompted him to place a brazen kiss to Christine's cheek.

The young woman did not shy away, in fact, she closed her eyes at the touch of his lips.

As suave as Erik made himself out to be, it did not erase the years of his youth where he'd been practically tortured. Only few knew of his past, and he counted the many who did not lucky. So, placing his lips against someone so fair as Christine who he held deeper feelings for than he'd ever possessed for anyone else… it was terrifying. The enjoyment she got out of it was answer enough to him. It assuaged his fears enough to let him smile as he backed up.

He wished her goodnight, and with a happy smile, she closed her door and locked it.

Erik walked away triumphant.

The next few weeks went by rather smoothly, he thought.

His dynamic with Christine had changed slightly, and it was most certainly a change for the better.

She allowed him more touches, seeming to feed off the attention he provided her. Erik was more than willing to hold her waist when they went places or offer his arm, looking down at her with everything in his soul.

They spent more time together than ever before. In fact, he was surprised no one had accused them of living at the music hall together. The theater was their refuge, and not only did they indulge in music, but deep talks of things neither one had told the other before.

It was magical for Erik, and as they approached the time where Christine was going to leave, he decided that he wanted to maybe cement the feelings that had been going on between them.

He had left the moment the last note was lingering from his piano. Erik had rushed to her dressing room, knowing that he would reach it before she could even think to leave the stage. Everything in his mind was planned out, and since it had been over three weeks, he felt it was time.

Anxiety gripped him. Erik paced impatiently, thinking about the past few weeks and hoping that he had not misread the signs Christine had been putting out. She was so comfortable with him, and he made her smile and laugh more than Raoul had ever seemed to be able to accomplish. That, and he would catch her looking at him, a smile on her lips of ease all the time. She begged for his attention, and like a loyal dog, he was always willing to provide it to her.

She had not failed him that evening, and the crowd had been as vibrant as ever. Of course, she had a whole new cycle of songs a that point, and there had been people there he'd seen before. Most were not ashamed to have seen her multiple times, and Erik was pleased to know that going out on a limb had gone so well for him.

When Christine finally emerged in her room, tears gracing her eyes and various flowers bunched up in her arms, she smiled confusedly at Erik.

"What are you doing here?"

She sounded exasperated, and Erik came around from his hiding spot, helping her with the massive amount of gifts she was placing onto her vanity.

"I wanted to offer my immense congratulations, Christine. You out-performed yourself without a single doubt. You will forever have been the most talented singer to grace my stage for as long as it stands."

She smiled at him, the tears becoming prominent. Erik reached up to her face and cradled it, wiping away the warm water from her face.

"Thank you," she muttered, putting her hands on his wrists and squeezing gently, looking at him with a gentle smile.

"It is I who is in your debt, Christine. You have changed my life."

She huffed softly, amused by him, and Erik completely understood as he held her face, bringing himself closer to her. Christine looked at him with hooded eyes, all of her tired, warm, and crying. Still, she was the most gorgeous angel on the entire planet.

With enough of his courage built up as he thought he could muster, Erik leaned in and kissed Christine proper. This was a far cry from her pretty pink cheeks, and all of his senses were ablaze at their lips connected so intimately as they were.

However, the moment was broken as she seemed to stumble away from him as though she'd lost her footing.

"What are you doing?" She wondered, her face red as though embarrassed.

Did she think he'd kissed her out of thankfulness?

"Christine, I am sure you have noticed that I have grown to care for you in my heart… and I could tell you were beginning to do the same despite your earlier promises to me."

"No," she suddenly defended, taking more steps back and holding out her hands as if to hold him back, "You are misunderstood, I have done no such thing, Erik. I do not care for you in the intimate ways, I do not…."

Christine choked on any more words that might have been able to come out, and Erik felt a fierce wave of anger surge over him.

How had he read the situation wrong? They had been so connected over the past few weeks he thought that things might have progressed sooner.

"You've taken all that I have given you as of late… my attention was paramount to those around you, how could I have misjudged?"

"Erik, I wouldn't ever-" She went to protect, looking guilty no matter how innocent she played.

"And yet you did! You craved everything I gave you, you would voluntarily touch me and allow my little affections, but you so harshly deny my love."

He was angry now, and he felt it bubble up in him like a raging pot of water over flames that had begun to lose its contents to the air. There had been chemistry between them, something he could not explain, but it was there! How could she stand there and say all the times she'd initiated an embrace or the gentle hold on the streets was not anything?

Erik's chest burned.

"I didn't think it meant anything, I thought you knew and you were just caring-"

"And yet you still took. There isn't any way you were ignorant to my feelings," he accused, his eyes boring into her cowering frame.

She shook her head, "I had no idea."

All Erik could muster was a rather blatantly pathetic laugh.

He shouldn't have let Nadir convince him into this nonsense that she may possibly feel something back. He should have known he was doomed not to receive the affections of a woman. Then again, for someone like him, shouldn't their attention be enough? Gods, he was lucky to have that at least.

His mind was tormenting him, and while Christine attempted to compose herself, he swore into the wind.

"Erik," she muttered meekly from behind him, seated on a small chair, crumpled into it more like it. "Erik, I am so sorry. If you got the wrong idea… I did not mean to hurt you or take more than I should have. I was so… flattered by you, and your presence complimented mine like not even Raoul has been able to accomplish."

"And yet I am still not enough to break your word to your art," he stated bluntly, looking at her with all the tiredness he did not have the right to possess when he had only played the piano in accompaniment.

"No one ever will be."

Feeling more foolish than angry now, Erik allowed himself to look at Christine who looked truly guilty. He softened, falling to his knees before her.

"I'm sorry."

The utterance obviously took Christine by surprise.

"You're not angry anymore?" She wondered tentatively, nose stuffy from all the crying, and small hiccups coming from her throat. Erik hated to have her hurting in such a way, it wasn't good for her voice.

"No, Christine… merely disappointed."

She slipped down onto the floor with him, closing her hands about his.

Erik couldn't handle the touch however without pulling her closer, and surprisingly enough she didn't object to the embrace. She even wrapped her arms about his neck tightly, allowing him his peace in her arms before she was to leave him alone and unloved.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Only two more chapters after this one! _

* * *

Christine mourned more than her final time on the empty stage she stood on. She was grieving for her new-found friendships and for her gorgeous music that would never again be hers, only in memory of performing each and every song. God, did she wish she could pack Erik up and take him and his music with her, but she knew that with their current rocky foundation, such a thing would not be advised.

How she hadn't seen the signs… well she didn't know how. She felt quite the imbecile, and as she touched her lips staring into the empty red velvet chairs, she cringed. It felt like only days ago that he had brought her here from Sweden, the masked mystery he was to her then, speaking to her in what he'd later told her was his ventriloquism. And yet, knowing all she did and having performed all the music that she had… it had felt like a lifetime since she'd been home.

Everything was packed from her rooms where she'd been residing for two months, and now she was standing on the stage with her luggage looking out into the emptiness. It stared back at her.

She had never told anyone what her worst fear was, but as she stood in the bright of day looking at empty aisles and listening to the quiet of everything around her it came into realization. Singing for no one, having her voice be unheard and unappreciated was her worst nightmare. Christine felt the cage of her corset and closed her eyes, attempting to steady her stomach. Leaving this place was not going to be easy. She was far more attached to it than she'd ever been anywhere else. A part of her was staying here, the part that had sung Erik's music… the only woman to ever sing the songs.

Christine felt her stomach churn at the thought that she might just miss here more than she would ever miss Sweden. She went there at least once a year, when was the next time her ship would sail her to New York? Three and a half years away in 1913.

A hand came down on her shoulder and she nearly fell off the stage in surprise and fright.

She sighed when she saw Raoul.

"I didn't mean to startle you, I thought you were far more aware of my presence than you seem to be even now."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, slipping from his grip to pick up her things, "I was lost in a world all my own… though I wasn't enjoying it very much."

"I could tell," Raoul replied with a look of pity on his face. He reached up again and wiped a tear from her cheek, his blue eyes sparkling at her in their kindness.

"I have never wanted to stay somewhere more and yet be out of here as fast as a ship can sail."

They laughed together, and Raoul nodded.

She had informed him in brief details what had happened between herself and Erik. She felt so bad for leading him on, and while Christine did not seem so inclined as he did, she knew what heartbreak was. When her father had died… well, if Erik was feeling anything like she was right now, then him being civil to her was more than she could ask for.

Raoul walked her out to the main entrance where only Mr. Khan and Erik awaited her presence.

"Miss Daae, I hate to see you go," Nadir spoke first, because even Christine could see that Erik was mildly uncomfortable.

"And I hate to leave, but I must fulfill other obligations."

He reached out a hand to her and Christine shook her head. She had gotten to know Nadir well enough that she went in for an embrace. He had always been sweet to her and had sided on her disliking for Juliet. That, and he had brought Erik and his music to her.

"Safe travels Miss Daae, I will see you in a few years." He tipped his head.

"Call me Christine, that way when I get back there won't be any more of that formality nonsense! Alright?"

"Fine by me," he said, looking quite pleased with himself. "And call me Nadir!"

With a giggle she agreed and stepped over to Erik, smiling at him sadly.

"I hope you find love vaster than the oceans you sailed across to find me," she whispered, noticing how Nadir and Raoul were engaged in a conversation suddenly. The two of them had gotten to know one-another better than Christine had originally thought.

"And I hope your career keeps you satisfied, Christine," he replied, his voice laden with something Christine could not decipher. It was heavy and grand, and Christine wished she could remove it… to go back and never have accepted all of his kindness and led him on.

"Thank you, Erik. You have been the truest of friends. I could not ask for one better! And your music!" She sighed. "There is nothing distasteful about you."

A topic they had never discussed was suddenly breached, and Christine realized it the moment the words had already left her mouth. She cringed, watching his sad face grow more depressed.

"I could find a fault or two in my visage, but you never did seem curious."

She stepped them away from the chatty men at their side and inhaled, exhaling all the same before speaking.

"It was never my business, although it is what originally drew me to you. I saw you in the restaurant that evening as I dined with Raoul. You were so curt with me, and I was not used to such a feeling in my hometown. It was as though you saw right through me, but then you peered back again. I have never been one to be anyone but my true self, and yet you saw deeper in those moments. When I saw you in the crowd, I wanted nothing to do with an American solicitor, but Raoul brought you in and my answer changed instantly. I am so glad it did."

Erik seemed to finally perk up slightly, "And am I glad you saw me in. Hopefully, despite my blunder, it was still worth it."

"Every bit."

And she meant it. While it had not been her want, having Erik fall for her could have been worse… it could have been anyone else less accepting of the answer no or someone with no knowledge of why music was her sole provider. Most people did not understand the way she reveled in notes and sounds, but Erik did. He lived off the crescendos and cadenzas almost as much as she did. Raoul hadn't ever understood, and she supposed that was where the dissonance had been between their friendship.

Christine figured they'd delayed long enough and stuck her hand out in a friendly gesture.

"I will miss you greatly, Erik Destler."

"And I you, Christine Daae." He took her hand as he spoke, bringing to his lips in one last gesture of peace, placing it back to her side when he was done, his eyes once again rimmed with tears.

"Write me," she demanded, "I will write first though, that way you know where I am."

"I will count on it."

They parted, and Christine took Raoul's proffered arm, not daring to look back lest she see something that made her stay and comfort her friend. Their bags were packaged onto a carriage, and soon they were on another ship, this one headed for Spain, far away from New York, but so much closer to home.

* * *

Erik felt his heart tear every inch she took further and further away from him. Still, he would move on and all would be fine in the world, but for a few weeks, Nadir would certainly be manning the ship. He would only compose, that was his healing medicine. Some of it would be useless, in fact _most_ of it would, but the few pieces of pain or love he might get out of it would be enough.

"Don't shut yourself in a hole forever simply because you lost the girl, Erik."

He turned and looked at his friend of many years.

"You insufferable man, always giving me advice for it to then go awry."

"Do not blame me," Nadir returned, and as Erik moved to get away from the conversation, he followed, "You know that she would have had to go anyways. And then what would you have done? Shut down the theater? Travel with her?"

"I don't know," Erik growled out, feeling cornered as he entered his office, looking for the stack of music parchment he kept on hand for days when he knew that he would be practically vomiting music. "We would have figured it out, but you seemed fine with it a month ago."

There. He'd stuck the man between a hard place and a rock. He could not wiggle from the argument, though he did look like he was trying.

"I just wanted you to be happy, figuring if you could get her to change her mind she might stay. The way you did it though, saying she may have returned the feelings, was idiotic."

"I will not stand here and be berated in my own office!" Erik yelled, slamming his fist upon the desk which did not seem to affect the man before him as he hoped it would.

"Fine," Nadir said, "But do not let us suffer. We need profits now more than ever to bring up our savings again. I don't like dipping below fifty grand."

"Whatever you say," he dismissed his friend, walking past him briskly, his legs carrying him as fast as possible without running to the music room.

The music that wafted through the theater that day told everyone to stay away from the boss' personal room or else have your head bitten off.

Erik was so frustrated that he ripped his mask off of his face and cursed into the air, throwing it across the room. The sound o the porcelain shattering was wholly unsatisfying. Sighing heavily, Erik realized he would unfortunately have to be there until the cloak of night came over them, not that it hadn't already been his plan.

He thought it curious that Christine had never really inquired into the mask all that much. The poor girl had simply kept her wonderings to herself... if she'd ever wondered at all.

It was obvious in his first few attempts on the piano that he was heartbroken. Erik did not like to put his heart on his sleeve, and the idea that someone else would know as well was not a happy thought in his head. He continued to compose and write until night came, then shaded himself in the darkness, face bare for anyone with a candle to see.

No such horror came, however, luckily enough for whatever soul may have come upon him in his travels.

For weeks and months later he slept and dreamed of Christine, until eventually it became a dull occurrence and his mind let him alone some evenings. Three and a half years was a long time to wait, but for Christine he would do anything to hear her sing again. And while he knew that was as deeply as they would ever connect, that did not lessen the hurt.

Erik tried to move on. In the best way possible she had ruined him for another woman, but he could not live out the rest of his life alone, waiting in his theater at the piano for the moment Christine's voice would be on his stage. He hardly dated, and after two years he simply gave up, deciding that he needed to put himself into work instead of his love life.

He had desires as a man, like children and a woman to hold in his arms, but he supposed that as long as he had music to care for and a business to raise, then nothing would stop him from living at least a content life.

Erik did not send out Nadir for more talent, instead going out to look for it himself, but this talent was of a different kind than that he searched for in Christine.

He wanted to expand his business, and while this was not entirely a hard thing to do, for him, it was making sure he did it the right way. Erik would settle for no less than the best New York (or the world) had to offer, which was how he ended up finding the Madame and Mademoiselle Giry's. They were of the highest class of dancers, and while the eldest no longer danced, she was a brilliant coach and director who had taught her daughter the impressive solos which she performed all over the state in.

He had snatched her up and made her Prima Ballerina at his theater before anyone else could.

The ballet did not attract the crowd Erik imagined it would, it ended up being far bigger. He was prideful of his success, but there was still an ache in his heart that could not be mended even by such an addendum.

Antoinette Giry became close with Erik and Nadir alike, her older take on life something both men cherished. Meg was young and vibrant, someone who carried on well with all of her fellow dancers, but she was difficult company for Erik to keep. It made him wonder how he'd been so enchanted by Christine, her youth not deterring him in the slightest. Though her commitment to her art was unrivaled, as he'd certainly felt the sting of once before.

When Antoinette provided the idea of filling Erik's lonely heart with a suitable arrangement of her daughter… he was not out-rightly opposed to the idea. She did not lack beauty. In fact, the blonde was quite lithe, and her grace was attractive. Besides the fact that he seemed to have many months ago charmed her in some way prided Erik, though it also hurt him having to deal with the idea that it was not Christine who had taken a liking to him in such a way.

Meg was… a nice girl, and while he had been reluctant to accept any ideas passed on by Giry, she did eventually convince him to get to know her better than an employee or friend's daughter.

He put much of his focus into the younger Giry, and while many days he could do so without thinking of Christine, Erik was not completely voided of her presence.

The hurt only strengthened when he knew her boat was to be docking after exchanging letters with her. The bittersweet moment was all he could look forward to, but he did not care to be blindsided and had told Meg that they were official if it was alright on her behalf.

Nadir had not been so inclined, being the oldest of them all, he had told Erik that he was being unwise, leading poor Meg on. Still, Erik did not think that just because he had age on the lot of them did not mean he had wit.

But, of course, his demons were to be battled that cold January of 1913, and there was nothing he could do to stop them from coming… especially if he cared so much to hear their song.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N You might like this one! The last chapter is coming up next!_

* * *

Christine rushed off the boat in a hurry. She had spent three years thinking about her decision. And, well, Christine did not like being away from Erik, not at all. Raoul had stopped travelling with her a year ago, and she did not have anyone else to accompany her besides him. The road was so lonely.

And she wanted him. In all the ways she'd promised herself to music, she wanted to offer herself to Erik, except, she wanted to give him more. The kiss they'd shared so long ago, and the weeks of… being like they had. Christine felt shivers down her spine at the thought.

They'd corresponded so little with her travelling, only being able to send him a letter if she knew that she was going to be somewhere for longer than two weeks. And their letters left much to want, for his were always in reply to the questions she would ask about the theater. He hadn't ever found anyone else to sing his music, and the thought comforted Christine even if it shouldn't considering how she had left him. She was the only woman to have sung his music… his ethereal compositions.

Christine loved him, and while the possibility had not been a faint option until she'd spent so long away… it was her only thought now. It had been very real for Erik when he'd mistaken their fondness for affection, though.

She tried not to remember the tongue lashing that she'd gotten after that. He'd been so harsh with his words, but it was even harder to remember the fact that he'd been right. She had taken the attention without a thought, thinking them just good friends and not taking caution. Christine had used Erik, and he had called her out on it. When she denied the affection he so willingly and with good reason offered, he was understandably hurt. Her confusion sunk in when she'd left, luckily repairing things enough to leave amiably and be able to talk to him.

Raoul, in his last two and a half years with her, had been so good about her sudden sadness which she hadn't been able to explain. It was a little bit before he left that he offered the idea she might have truly loved Erik back.

It was the nights and traveling alone that had proved him right.

As she gazed on a no-longer-familiar coastline of New York, her heart soared. They'd been communicating a lot in the past four weeks, and by the tone of his letters, she had thought he was excited to see her.

It was a lot for Christine to ask him to have held onto those same feelings which caused him so much grief in the past. She didn't want to cause him pain, but if he was able to love her still, then she would do whatever she could to prove to him that she was worth the love and was willing to give it back.

She jumped around excitedly as they docked, looking around to make sure no one had seen the sight before gathering up her suitcase and heading towards the ramp where she would exit. Christine was thrilled to her core, and she spotted Erik in an instant as she descended from the boat.

There were a few people standing around him, but Christine recognized one friendly face.

"Erik," she greeted him first, her heart fluttering at the hug he offered her.

"Christine."

His voice was music to her ears, and how dearly she wished they could telephone over the Atlantic. It would have made communicating so much easier, and yet she did not have such a luxury.

Erik was warm, and while she did not want to return to the frosty air and greet the others, she was afraid that it would be awkward for her not to.

"Christine," Nadir greeted her, his formalities gone, "You look wonderful!"

"Thank you! It's good to see you, Nadir."

She was offered a hug from him, and she dared to look over at Erik as she embraced the man, but he was focused on the blonde next to him. There was no hint of jealousy there.

"I have two women I would like you to meet, Christine," he said when she left Nadir, her heart drooping.

She smiled and nodded encouragingly. The one woman was dark haired, but she looked remarkably like the younger one in front of her, though she was blonde like herself. Christine got a very motherly vibe from the older woman, but she did not seem too friendly. Her focus was sharp, unlike her daughter's who looked barely old enough to be called a woman.

"This," Erik gestured to the elder woman, "Is my dance expert and director, Madame Antoinette Giry. She is brilliant and talented in her art, though she has only taught since she had her daughter, Mademoiselle Marguerite Giry."

"You can call me Meg," the blonde said to Christine, and she smiled brightly as she stuck her tiny hand out, "I'm the Prima Ballerina, Erik seems to have forgotten to mention it."

"Sorry, Meg, I simply hadn't gotten there yet."

"Mhm," the girl replied cheekily, and Christine stopped shaking her hand, seeing the look she offered Erik. Christine was not a fan of that look.

Juliet had waited for Erik at the docks the last time Christine had come to sing, was she also Erik's partner? Her heart needed it to be a no, but something in her head said that this ballerina was her competition.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Daae. How were your travels?" Madame Giry asked her as she nodded slightly, her voice a perfect alto.

"Fine, surprisingly enough. I thought overseas travel during the winter would be brutal, but I had a wonderful room on the way here," Christine winked at Erik who had booked the whole thing for her.

"Did you get the music I left in the room?"

"I did," she replied quickly, taking Erik slightly off guard, "I thought I was to perform ten pieces again, though, why were there fifteen?"

"Did you not get the note I sent with them?" He seemed to grow angry, but it was not at her, "Those fools on the ship, I shouldn't have paid them as much as I did."

She giggled, "It's fine, I learned them all, so I guess you can pick your favorites?"

Erik lightened up, "I suppose that is an amenable compromise for someone else's foolishness."

"Let's go," Nadir said, "The chill is getting to me."

Erik did not seem amused, rolling his eyes, "You can tell he's from a warm country."

Christine giggled, but her joviality stopped as Nadir picked up _her _bag and offered her _his _arm, Erik offering his own to Miss Giry.

As if her grip on Nadir's arm wasn't enough to clue him in that she was not happy to see such a thing, Nadir leaned over and whispered in her ear as they walked, "They are _together… _but I don't know how invested Erik is in her. Although, I thought it wouldn't matter to you the way you let him down before, but now that I see differently-"

"How long?" She interrupted him, but Nadir only sighed, "A few months. He instated the ballet about a year ago, I don't recall if he told you in a letter."

"Yes," she replied absently, watching as Erik brought up his other arm and put his hand over hers. Christine was boiling in the middle of winter.

"Calm down, Christine. You're only here for a few weeks."

"Two months! I came here to confess love to him, and now I have to watch him be with another for two months! Nadir, I-"

"I know," he replied, patting her hand just like Erik had done to Meg, "We can talk later if you wish. I notice you are absent a Vicomte."

Christine huffed. Raoul was at least a happy topic to go into.

"He met someone very lovely and married her. They were communicating while we were travelling together, and when we circled through France again, he proposed to her and then a few months later went back to marry her. They're expecting a child now."

At least Christine got to call Raoul on the telephone when she had the chance. He couldn't phone her due to her travels, but she did love to call him.

"That's wonderful!" Nadir shivered as they approached the carriage, "I can't wait to hear more, Christine."

"Thanks," she said as she was completely ignored by the other three people in the party.

They arrived at the theater after a long, silent carriage ride, and Erik split off from the other two women to hear her sing and see how her vocals were after the trip.

The moment everyone was gone, she pounced.

"Meg seems very fond of you."

* * *

Erik looked up at Christine in confusion. He wasn't entirely sure what she meant by that. It was very clear to him that Nadir had informed her of more than he should have. Pesky old man. He'd put his feelings on hold to make sure that this specific instance did not batter him.

"She and I are… affectionate."

That was one of the words he'd thrown her way in the past, and it visibly shook the poor thing. Erik had felt terrible for lashing out on her, but there hadn't been any hard feelings. Or was that what this was about?

"I thought you-" Christine stopped, and Erik raised his eyebrows. Sure, she could only see one of them, but she would get the gist. "I thought you had affections for _me_…"

"And did you covet those affections? No. Christine, I simply want to hear you sing, I do not care to hash up things that we left behind nearly four years ago."

"Right," she said, shaking her head.

Erik sighed, thanking his lucky stars she wasn't going to bring up anything else from their past. He hated to think of it. The only thing four years ago had been good for was making a fool of him.

Meg was a good girl… and while she was no singer, her elegance as a ballerina was coveted by the men who saw her with him. He liked for the women he was with to be admired. She was beautiful as well, though her blonde was nothing compared to Christine's.

He seated himself at the piano and handed her one of the pieces before him, "This one first."

She took it from him, her determination evident as she shook out her shoulders and stood confidently.

Erik appreciated the sternness of her dedication to the job she'd promised to fulfill. The dancers he employed were much more troublesome than the singers, but they brought in an equally formidable crowd.

He began to play, looking at his score as the notes passed and the entrance for Christine came in… but she did not.

Sighing heavily, he looked over and found the poor soprano dissolved in tears.

"Christine?" He rushed to her side, lifting her as she crumpled, her hands covering her eyes as they bled tears.

"Christine, shh, calm down." He sat upon the floor with her, rubbing her head as she clung to him.

What had gone so wrong?

"I-" she was already hyperventilating, "I… came back and thought… thought that you would," she coughed, "still care for me! I was wrong, so wrong!"

Erik pulled her close and shook his head, "No, Christine, I do care for you! You held my heart once, how could I ever stop caring for you?"

"No," she replied harshly, her nose now stuffed and throat probably in need of a lot of rest. Erik cursed her callousness.

"What then?"

"You stopped," another cough, "_loving_ me. Erik, I have spent two years yearning for you, loving you, hoping… hoping that you might still love me when I returned."

Erik's chest lit on fire at her words.

She loved him?

He had to get away from her, and as he scrambled back, he watched her hands… her bare hands reach for him. The room was so small, and everything was making him feel so confined.

"No," he muttered, "You _can't _love me. Christine... "

He calmed down, overreacting was not something he did and he wasn't starting now.

"What?" She asked him violently, her voice harsh as she looked at him with wet, red eyes.

"When did you realize?"

"Two years, as I said… but I realized I loved you truly when Raoul left. I've been travelling alone for a year now, and I hate it. Raoul only kept it at bay, and alone to myself I nearly ran to you every time I got on a boat or in a carriage."

"Why didn't you say anything?" He asked hollowly, not able to face her. At least she'd gained some of her composure back.

"I wasn't ready… and I was afraid I'd offend you since it's been so long since-"

"Since I embarrassed myself?"

"Since you took a chance."

Erik rolled his eyes, feeling rather stressed as he paced about the room.

He had truly been in love with Christine, and only just recently had he admitted that she wasn't ever going to feel the same way. Erik had never wanted to admit such a thing, it had killed him to do it.

Then there was Meg. He did like her, and he respected Madame Giry even more, but the woman crying behind him had seized his heart a long time ago.

"Christine?"

He hoped that had sounded kind, but as she turned around, having gotten up from the ground while he wasn't paying attention, her arms were crossed, thumbnail in her mouth, eyes red. He had destroyed this poor creature.

"What is it, Erik?" She asked him brokenly.

He took careful steps towards her, reaching for her hands, and though she flinched slightly, she allowed him to take her hands.

"You don't have your ring anymore."

He felt her fingers, each one soft and barren.

"No, I couldn't bear the thought of a ring on my hand unless it was yours."

"Give me another chance?" He wondered softly.

Erik looked up at Christine who was fighting what looked like happy tears now, her smile proof of that.

"Of course, Erik, I want that, but promise me you will fix your other situations first. I will not be second, I will be your only."

He sighed, proud of her, "Don't worry, Christine. The fact that I am lucky enough to have you at all… I couldn't do anything to make that go away."

She sniffed, and despite their equal states of undress, he was positively in love with her and found her more beautiful than any other woman on the planet.

"We have many problems to straighten out, my darling. First must be Meg. I will let her down gently, and we cannot come out immediately, but no longer than a week should we wait. I will explain everything to her upfront so that way it won't be a shock to anyone who matters."

Christine nodded, looking placated already, but Erik had a whole list of things he wished to discuss with the love of his life.

"Next we should address the situation of your travels."

In all her years away from him, she did not think on this. For some reason she just imagined them together not… apart while being so.

"I would not ask that you cease your travels. I could not. You adore your home and your European countries. You are talented and I shall not be so possessive as to keep you from the world. I brought you here to share you, and I find that your voice is one thing I am willing to let others share with you."

Christine giggled, Erik earning his desired response.

"I want to stay," she said suddenly, though it was low and soft, "All I really need is a stage and a trip or two to Sweden every so often."

Erik could not believe she would so easily give up a career she had once been married to just to play happy family with him.

"I am not asking you do this… I want to make you happy. I simply have to be here at least once a month."

Christine shrugged, "I do not care for travelling unless I have a man to share empty and varying beds with. To be honest, though, I have been craving something permanent. Not vague essences of home or furniture. I wish to sleep in a bed I have made and kept, and I want to know my way around hallways and corners with my eyes closed. I do have a year booked out, however that I must attend to lest I ruin my good name."

"And… do you think you would allow me to… _change_ your name?"

With the largest smile Erik had ever seen Christine shed, she said yes.


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: This is it! I hope you all enjoyed! I'm so glad I could finally release this, I've been working on it for a very long time, and it is most certainly one of the best things I've ever written! Love all of you who read! _

* * *

Erik sat at his desk, feeling wary. He had… known this moment would come, but taking the time with his love in the music room, healing his broken soul… why would he ever want to stop such a feeling?

Regardless, it was in the middle of the evening now, and he'd called Meg to his office along with Madame Giry, though he would privately talk to her daughter first which was why he told them different times. The time for Meg to come was upon him, and all of him was racked by a powerful anxiety. He hadn't ever felt such a feeling before, and he thought of Christine to steady him.

_His_ Christine.

"Erik?" Came a meek voice, followed by a knock.

He looked up and motioned her in, standing to guide her into a chair across from his desk.

"What's this about?" She wondered, gently rubbing at her skirts.

He could tell she was nervous, and Erik felt a slight amount of remorse at having to have this conversation with her.

"As you know, over the past few weeks we have been getting… close. And as much as I enjoy your company-"

"So you aren't about to tell me I can no longer dance?"

Erik narrowed his eyes at her, shaking his head slightly at the question.

"I never had that intention, no. Even if I did want to continue in a relationship with you, I wouldn't do that to you. Your dancing is sublime, you are Prima Ballerina for a reason."

The girl smiled, and he had to wonder if she had had the affection for him like her mother had so heavily insinuated she'd had.

"I am disappointed to hear you no longer wish to be with me, but I saw the way you looked at Christine. If I kept you from that… I would hate myself."

Meg was a lot smarter than he'd given her credit for, and a lot older too.

"Thank you, Meg. I do hope you find happiness."

"Thanks, and I hope she's yours."

Erik had no doubt that Christine was all he would ever need in his life.

Another knock on the door alerted Erik to her mother's presence, and Meg seemed to be equally aware. The two were very open with one-another.

"What is going on in here? Nothing torrid I hope," the Madame's voice came, entering upon her own will.

Erik sighed, looking at Meg with an "I got her" look.

"No, Madame, we just had a short conversation about our futures is all."

She looked at him with pursed lips, her eyes confused as she put her hands on her hips. Erik had never necessarily been scared of Madame Giry, but she was one of the only women who he had ever felt intimidated by.

"And?"

Clearing his throat, he said, "I have decided my heart isn't in the right place with Meg here, and I wanted her to be the first to know."

Antoinette opened her mouth, but Meg cut in, her step forward very brave in Erik's opinion.

"It's fine, Mother. I would much rather he tell the truth than lead me on. Don't you agree?"

Erik could tell she did not, but for the sake of her daughter she sighed and nodded, though he did not miss the glare he received as Meg wished them a good day and left the room.

"And what spurred this decision on, Erik? And if you tell me that you've somehow convinced Miss Daae into a relationship, I do not care to know how, nor do I approve of your callousness."

Frowning, he released a breath as he sat back down at his desk, finding the sketches of Christine he'd made so very long ago. It was when she'd left him for her career, the plausible and obvious outcome at the time, for who would care for the mask let alone his career and reputation?

"_She_ convinced me into it," he said hollowly, "I was committed to your daughter, Antoinette, I am not the man the mask makes me look."

"That's not what I meant," Giry interrupted, herself taking a seat across from him where her daughter had previously been, "I know you, Erik… you are a good man, which was why I _wanted_ you with my daughter. There are many vile people who would wish to get their hands on dancers."

She gave him a knowing look and then continued before he could assure her, "My daughter will be fine, and I suppose I will as well. As long as you don't get hurt, I think Miss Daae is a lovely young woman who will compliment you nicely."

Erik didn't know how to reply as his eyes began to water. The understanding of these two women was unparalleled. He appreciated her more than anyone… bar Nadir, but he only said that grudgingly of the annoying Persian.

"What do I do about," Erik lifted his hand towards his mask, leaving the question open to her knowing interpretation.

"You haven't discussed this with her yet?"

"We briefly discussed marriage, but not the mask."

Antoinette did not seem to like this answer.

"Ignoring that, I would suggest you merely sit her down and take it off. What is the worst that could happen? She doesn't care for it? Then you learn whether or not she was true about the words she spoke to you."

Erik sighed. He would wear his mask every moment of every day if meant he got to keep Christine, but he understood what his friend was saying. Still, he doubted… wondering if he could postpone it.

"I would keep it on if it meant she stayed… but you are very right, Antoinette. If I want to spend the rest of my life with her as I planned, then I should show her and make sure that… she still loves me after."

She smiled at him, nodding softly, though there was still a look of anger on her face, "Do not forget to tell Nadir, he would never forgive you for being the absolute last to know."

"Right," he said, "He was on his way to Christine the last time I saw him."

"Go," she urged, "Or the little songbird might have chirped."

Erik ran.

When he arrived at her door, it was open all the way, and inside he spotted what he assumed to be a celebratory embrace between two friends.

"I hope I am not interrupting anything," he said from the doorway.

Christine nearly broke her neck to see him. "Of course not! Erik, I was just spilling secrets you've yet to let him in on."

He was in for it now.

"Yes," Nadir turned on him, a Cheshire grin on his face, "How terrible, and I'm told you've been with the Giry's! What betrayal lies upon my heart."

"And they say the dancers are the actresses," Erik replied sarcastically, attempting to pull of something intimidating, but he was having trouble doing so watching Christine delight in their friendly banter.

"You cannot wound me with words, for you have already stuck my heart with the knife of betrayal."

Nadir placed a hand over his heart to top it off, winking back at Christine who only submitted to more pleasing giggles. And to think that lovely woman with obviously poor taste in humor was in love with _him_!

"Fool." Erik had lost this time, but he had more important things to battle with than Nadir Khan's lacking sense of humility.

"I forgive you," he said, looking back to Christine one last time, "Congratulations, Christine, I envy your determination. Enjoy your evening, you two, just not too much."

Nadir took his leave, Christine wishing him well and Erik only rolling his eyes, focusing onto his beloved in a matter of moments.

"How did everything go, Erik?"

"Better than expected, love. Miss Giry took it as well as Juliet did back when I had fallen for you the first time."

She smiled a melancholy smile but picked herself up rather quickly despite it saying, "Well, I'm glad, Erik. I love you so very much, and it sounds so silly, but being apart for you for even a few minutes was terrible."

"I must agree," he said, walking up to her and taking her hands. "But I also have to talk with you about something."

He gestured to her vanity chair, one she'd occupied so long ago and the room had barely changed, no other room for a diva if it was not her.

"Sit."

She complied, sitting down, her nervous fidgeting quite endearing. And for the topic, Erik could not blame her being nervous, even if she did not know what was happening.

He knelt before her, gently massaging her calves as he closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her in his hands just in case he was about to ruin it.

"Christine, there was another obstacle we failed to breach earlier today, and I would like to say that whatever your response, I understand."

Understanding washed over her, and Erik cringed at the pale which over took her face. Still, he would go on for the good of his sanity and hers. Who knows when her curiosity might finally break, and rather than having the mask ripped off unwillingly, he would do it on his own terms.

"You can show me whatever you wish, Erik, I shall not be afraid."

Oh how he wished that was true.

"What I hide is not a criminal's face or secret identity, though, Christine. It is mangled flesh like nothing you have ever seen."

A quick nod of blonde curls and Erik sighed, knowing that she could have said no at any time.

Regardless, he reached for the wire that was gently tucked beneath his hair, lifting it from his head and holding the porcelain to his face with shaking hands. It was only when he felt cool ones wrap around his own that he fell the mask and looked up to meet a small gasp, Christine's mouth forming a small 'o'.

She slightly leaned back, her hands still encased over Erik's but it did not last long as he propelled himself up, over the entire thing. He shouldn't have trusted her, he admonished quickly, reaching for the mask as she looked at him in what looked like terror. He couldn't stand to see her like this, and feeling completely ruined for the second time by this woman, Erik made to leave.

Before he could reach the door, his hand was captured by Christine's pulling him back to her, their chests colliding due to her sudden strength of needing to keep him there and his lack of strength from what he had assumed was her rejection.

"I'm sorry, I just needed to adjust… how did you-"

"I was born with it," he answered quickly, not wanting her to misconstrue any detail, "It gave me one hell of a life."

They were a breath apart, and with tears falling from her eyes, Christine reached up pushed them away, tentatively placing her hand on his chest after, playing with the collar mindlessly as she stared at him.

"Does it hurt if I touch it? May I?"

"Considering all it has ever felt is pain, I think your gentle touch would be heaven, my darling."

Erik had to keep himself from getting too excited. He'd felt the touch of a woman before, but this was new territory. No one had ever dared caress the marred flesh that was his face, and with a single touch Christine was lighting his desires on fire.

He snaked an arm about her waist and pushed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as she continued to caress his cheekbone, or whatever was left of it.

"You are an absolutely handsome man, Erik, and I love you no less for this. In fact, I will love you harder because of it."

She leaned in, her entire body now flush against his, their lips soon connecting in what Erik could only describe as the most tantalizing thing he had ever experienced. She was everything he ever dreamed her being and more, her lips soft, her mouth respondent and welcoming, and her entire body reflecting the desire that was very prominent in his own.

He moaned something into the kiss, her response enough to let him deepen the intimate action even further. Oh, how sweet she truly was. Whatever it was Erik had done to earn Christine, he wanted to continue to do it for millions of years just to keep her here in his arms.

Her hands slipped to the back of his neck, and Erik worried for a moment she would push him away, but did the exact opposite as she gripped his neck and pulled him in closer, their session becoming more and more physical by the moment.

When they did pull away, Christine nearly fell into his arms, her smile evident as she hugged him tightly. The embrace was almost as heavenly as the kiss, but not quite close enough. Erik wanted a dozen more kisses at least.

"I love you," she told him sternly, looking at his face with a determined smile as if knowing he was already insecure about it being before her.

He had no idea how seeing him had spurred her on to kiss him, but he would never complain if it meant he was on the receiving end of them forever.

"I love you, Christine."

He kissed her quickly, wanting to make sure that it was okay as he pulled away to check, her smile still there and eyes still so full of honesty.

"I rarely ever want to see the mask again, alright? Unless in public or absolutely necessary. Erik, can you do that for me?"

"Anything for you," he told her, meaning ever word.

She kissed him this time, seeming to enjoy them just as much as he.

"I've never felt anything like that before… the kiss and the feelings that come with it… but now I want to feel it all. I want to be your wife, Erik, with everything that entails."

More words that were nearly bringing him to the very edge! Oh how he wished he could fulfill her desires, but Erik needed to remain calm.

"We will marry, Christine, I promise. First, you sing for me _and then_ I domesticate you."

She giggled, nodding along to his jest as he stroked her hair, kissing her forehead all the same, both sets of eyes closing in bliss.

"I will be the happiest singer in the theater, then."

"My perfect little songbird," he said softly, and with that their night could not have gotten any better.

* * *

Epilogue

Christine and Erik married when she had completed her two month reign in his theater, and then he traveled with her to her final destinations, one of which was her home country where they had met. He made a wonderfully doting husband, and she was an even better wife than one could have expected seeing as she hadn't ever planned on getting married in the first place.

They made love quite frequently in the first place, but when they returned to New York to make a homestead, the couple were even more needy as they both decided they wanted a child.

Christine was a perfectly healthy young woman, or so the doctors said, and there was nothing wrong with Erik besides his physical oddness, but still they seemed to lack success for two years after their marriage.

When their anniversary marked, both of them resigned the idea. While they would have loved the opportunity to be parents, Christine staying childless allowed her to perform Erik's ever-growing arsenal of compositions. She still enjoyed a very fruitful career, and Erik enjoyed having her since he always received lovely, fat checks when she sang.

Nadir, Antoinette, and Meg had all been there for the wedding, and while Christine had contacted Raoul with an invitation, he had neglected to respond to her. Little did she know that Erik had contacted him and secretly invited him. She hadn't ever been happier to see him, him and his family arriving in New York a lovely surprise at the end of her two-month run at Erik's theater.

They visited as often as having three little ones allowed, but she became slightly jealous when her body had yet to provide the same result as Raoul's wife's.

On their third anniversary, Erik had completely abandoned the idea of having a child. He'd come up with a million excuses as to why it would be bad to have one anyways, and one of them included his possibly-hereditary deformity. Others included the possibility of losing the child or Christine herself, neither a favorable option.

So a resigned Erik was rather surprised when she sat him down on their third anniversary, Christine saying with the biggest smile on her face since their wedding that she was pregnant.

Everyone was so happy for them, and due to her small frame and their trouble conceiving up until that moment, Erik made her rest almost constantly. She was allowed her normal routine of practicing singing only when she'd started to show and had proved that the child was likely to make it to birth.

Meg had become fast friends with Christine after their wedding, and she was overjoyed to be an aunt. Raoul as much so to be an uncle.

And past all of his worrying, and everyone else's, Antoinette helped Christine deliver a beautiful baby girl who was not only healthy, but the definition of perfection. There wasn't a hair out of place on the infant, and so was born Calliope Marguerite Destler, the only addition the happy family would have.

Fate seemed to love them, however, because despite the musicality in their family and the perfection she was… Calli could not sing a single note or even play a tune on the piano with years of training! No, she was simply a beautiful and smart young girl who did not play music but, was the apple of her father's eye… the same father who held most of New York in his hand.

All in all, they got to live out their happily ever after, and each year, they would return to the place where it all had started. Where the Swedish songbird had met the French composer, each one changing the other's life in unexpected ways.


End file.
